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 THE 
 
 CONVERSATIONS OF LORD BYRON 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON
 
 
 LORD BYRON. 
 From a Sketch made by Count D'Orsay in 1823.
 
 CONVERSATIONS OF LORD BYRON 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 A NEW EDITION, REVISED, AND ANNOTATED 
 
 TO WHICH IS PREFIXED 
 
 A CONTEMPORARY SKETCH OF LADY BLESSINGTON, 
 
 BY HER SISTER, AND A MEMOIR OF HER 
 
 BY THE EDITOR OF THIS EDITION 
 
 WITH SEVERAL PORTRAITS ENGRAVED ON STEEL 
 
 LONDON 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, NEW BURLINGTON STREET 
 
 publishers in CDriimtrjj to gjcr cflrtitjcsij) the Qntcn 
 
 1893
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 CONTEMPORARY SKETCH OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON, 
 
 P,Y HER SISTER - xiii 
 
 MEMOIR BY THE EDITOR OF THE PRESENT EDITION - xxix 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 First meeting of Lady Blessington and Lord Byron Personal 
 appearance of Lord Byron His lameness The Casa 
 Saluzzi at Albaro Mutual friends Tom Moore Ellice 
 " Lalla Rookh " " When first I met thee "Irish wit 
 At Genoa Lord Holland Rogers Lady Holland 
 and the Edinburgh Review Galignani's Messenger The 
 Hon. William Hill Selfishness and generosity The 
 " Improving Society " - Douglas Kinnaird Horse- 
 dealing The expedition to Greece Lady Byron The 
 Hon. Augusta Byron Byron's conversation 1-20 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Colonel Montgomery Letter from Byron to Lady Blessing- 
 ton Lady Byron's portrait Byron's wishes regarding 
 his daughter Literary women Madame de Stael Her 
 brilliant conversation A solecism Epigrams Literary 
 reputation Napoleon His " persecution " of Madame 
 de Stael " Corinne " A lecture on morals Byron's
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 misjudgment of himself His love of gossip Madame 
 Benzoni The Duke of Leeds Byron's superstitious 
 nature Shelley's belief in ghosts Byron's indifference 
 to works of art His suspicion " Sacred should the 
 stream of sorrow flow " - 21-41 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Daily rides Clever people great talkers The fatigue of 
 literary occupation A lady's album Moore and the 
 critic Fashionable life in London as it appeared to 
 Byron English country life Les dames a la mode 
 English and French idiosyncrasies The village of Nervi 
 Byron on horseback Peculiarities of his riding- 
 costume and his horse's caparison Byron's horror of 
 necrologists Friendless poets Byron as literary critic 
 Sir Walter Scott, author and man Byron's apprecia- 
 tion of his works Cervantes surpassed by Scott Byron 
 at his best His acute observation Italian moonlight 
 Genoese sailors " God save the King " in a foreign land 
 The Stoic philosopher The Countess Guiccioli The 
 Counts Gamba " Don Juan " Hope's " Anastasius " 
 Gait's novels and Wilkie's pictures The genius of 
 Mrs. Hemans Byron's dislike for the Lake school of 
 poets Keats - 42-65 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 On the balcony Shelley Byron's eulogy on him Mary 
 Wollstonecraft Shelley Leigh Hunt A journalistic 
 venture, "The Liberal" Absent friends Hobhouse 
 Lines written on hearing of Lady Byron's illness 
 Byron's will Sir Francis Burdett An impartial friend 
 The pride of aristocracy "George Rose to George 
 Byron " Ravenna Count Vittorio Alfieri Mistaken 
 identity Anonymous letters A stranger's prayer 
 " The beauty of holiness " Lady Cowper Lady 
 Adelaide Forbes - 66-94
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PA'JK 
 
 A chameleon Difficulty in describing Byron John Kemble 
 A gazing multitude Byron's fondness for flowers 
 His candour A parody Luttrell His "Advice to 
 Julia " What Moore was meant for The evanescence 
 of genius Byron's dread of ridicule Inherited bad 
 temper " The Deformed Transformed" Reminiscence 
 Byron's sensitiveness regarding his lameness His 
 desultory reading Count Pietro Gamba " The Age 
 of Bronze" An anonymous author Byron's love of 
 mystification - 95-1 14 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Napoleon His lack of sympathy The brothers Smith 
 The " Rejected Addresses " " Cui Bono ?" Byron's 
 marvellous memory His love of solitude An enormous 
 inkstand A giant shaving himself -The sublime and 
 the ridiculous A hoax The mad Earl of Portsmouth 
 Cant in America The American navy John Wilson 
 Croker Bryan Waller Procter ("Barry Cornwall") 
 Byron on marriage Benjamin Constant An antidote 
 to Madame de StaeTs " Corinne " The advantages of 
 blindness and the inutility of beauty 1 15-142 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Byron's friends Sir John Hobhouse William Bankes 
 Joseph Jekyll "The Tears of the Cruets" John 
 Philpot Curran An inimitable mimic An ode to 
 memory Definitions of memory One more cardinal 
 virtue "The Pleasures of Fear" Dreams English 
 and Italian characteristics Byron as comic writer 
 Pietro Gamba John William Ward, Lord Dudley 
 Sheridan William Arden, second Lord Alvanley and 
 successor to Beau Brummel - - 143-177
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Byron's habit of ridicule His admiration of Napoleon 
 Metternich on Napoleon Why the Viennese speak 
 better French than do the English A very good reason 
 Why Don Juan turned Methodist What the world 
 says A week at Lady Jersey's Lord John Russell's 
 essays on London society Hallam's " Middle Ages " 
 The golden rule Douglas Kinnaird Cremation 
 versus burial Hypochondriasm, bodily and mental 
 Lord Erskine The "Anti-Jacobin" The best 
 cosmetic William Spencer, the "Poet of Society "- 
 No parody A galaxy of "stars" Decent mediocrity 
 Canning The weight of riches An honest poor 
 man - 178-205 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott His thrice-read novels Byron's memory 
 Madame du Deffand Richardson's novels A letter 
 to Voltaire A lasting friendship Extremes meet 
 Stoicism Righteous indignation Sir William Drum- 
 mond His " Academical questions " An admirable 
 preface Robert Wai pole Francis Horner Transla- 
 tions Pope's " Homer " George Colman the younger 
 Byron's monody on Sheridan, and Moore's lines 
 Byron on the Irish 206-223 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Byron as a man A difficult task Byron's versatility A 
 false beau ideal Lord Blessington John Gait, a 
 prolific author The "Entail" Shipmates The milk 
 of human kindness Shelley's amiability A " thorough- 
 paced manceuvrer" The beauty of age A donna of 
 forty-six A landscape by Claude Lorraine " Sentiment 
 centred in wrinkles" Moore "speaking roses " His
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 songs sung by himself Byron's autobiography Greek 
 epigrams Rogers's epigram on Ward Byron's parsi- 
 mony His want of good taste " Crede Byron," - 224-242 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Lords Holland and Erskine Walter Savage Landor 
 Byron's mode of wreaking vengeance La Marquise 
 du Deffand The Lake School Ladies' poetry 
 Voltaire on authors An interesting folio Society 
 versus law " A fellow-feeling makes them wondrous 
 kind " Buxom health and lanky languor Ladies 
 a la Rubens " Mens sana in corpore sano" The price 
 of fame The best legacy A French proverb " Love 
 is only curiosity " Count d'Orsay's journal The secret 
 of English ennui Slaves of fashion Creatures of cir- 
 cumstance Lady Melbourne Women's hearts - 243-273 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Retrograde Greece The less of two evils The system of 
 Serventism The advantages of morals and religion 
 Education's effects The consolation of avarice Byron's 
 expedition to Greece Sir Walter Scott and his sincerity 
 Tcte-a-tete suppers The organ of locomotiveness 
 Securing a tcte-a-tete Food for a week An equivocal 
 compliment Byron's love of mischief His plagiarism 
 A triumphant refutation 274-296 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The liberty of thought and speech The king of prosers 
 Bores The Irishwoman's fortune Un chantre cfenfer 
 A fanciful simile M. de Lamartine His ode to 
 Byron His "Meditations" The one disadvantage of 
 solitude The rock which wrecked Napoleon Byron 
 compares himself to a tiger Diderot How to write of 
 women Byron's mother and sister : their influence on
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 him Thomas Campbell " The Pleasures of Hope ''- 
 To know " by heart " " The Pleasures of Memory "- 
 Loving-cups for the poets An excuse for Shakespeare 
 Pope Byron's elocution - - 297-324 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Duke of Wellington " Les Essais de Montaigne " 
 An amusing idea Burton's " Anatomy of Melancholy " 
 A severe criticism An excuse for the plagiarist 
 How to be original Dr. Richardson's "Travels along 
 the Mediterranean " Two opinions Medical men- 
 In a cider cellar Tom Cribb, the champion pugilist 
 Madame de Stael Sir James and Lady Mackintosh 
 " Comme vous ressemblez mi perroquet " Religious 
 women The cant of false religion Ada Lady Lovelace 
 Her father's portrait Byron's presentiment of death 
 in Greece John Fitzgibbon, second Earl of Clare, a 
 schoolfellow of Byron, and the Lycus in "Childish 
 Recollections" Byron's three friends His wish to 
 visit England before going to Greece His mental 
 reservation in intimate intercourse What might have 
 been A literary epoch - 325-369 
 
 INDEX - 370-376
 
 LIST OF PORTRAITS 
 
 LORD BYRON, FROM A SKETCH MADE IN 1823 BY COUNT 
 
 D'ORSAY - Frontispiece. 
 LORD BYRON, ENGRAVED BY T. A. DEAN FROM THE PAINTING 
 
 BY W. B. WEST to face page i 
 
 THE COUNTESS GUICCIOLI - ,, 60 
 
 RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERIDAN ,, ,, 176 
 
 GEORGE CANNING - ,, ,, 204 
 
 GEORGE COLMAN, THE YOUNGER - 216 
 
 M. DE LAMARTINE - 304 
 
 ADA, COUNTESS OF LOVELACE ,, 348
 
 NOTE 
 
 THE sketch commencing on the opposite page was not pre- 
 fixed to the edition which has already appeared of this book 
 
 (viz., in 1834). The one which follows is prepared especially 
 for this issue.
 
 A 
 CONTEMPORARY SKETCH 
 
 OF 
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 MARGUERITE BLESSINGTON was the third child and 
 second daughter of Edmund Power, Esq., of Knockbrit, 
 near Clonmel, in the County of Tipperary, and was born 
 on the ist of September, 1789. Her father, who was 
 then a country gentleman, occupied with field sports and 
 agricultural pursuits, was the only son of Michael Power, 
 Esq., of Curragheen, and descended from an ancient 
 family in the County of Waterford. Her mother also 
 belonged to a very old Roman Catholic family, a fact of 
 which she was not a little proud, and her genealogical 
 tree was preserved with a religious veneration and studied 
 until all its branches were as familiar as the names of 
 her children. " My ancestors, the Desmonds," were her 
 household gods, and their deeds and prowess her 
 favourite theme. 
 
 The rest of the family consisted of a son, Michael ; 
 Anne and Edmund, who both died early; Ellen, who 
 married, first, Mr. Home Purves, brother of Sir Alexander
 
 A CONTEMPORARY SKETCH OF 
 
 Home Purves, a Scotch baronet of ancient descent and 
 large fortune, and secondly, the Viscount Canterbury, 
 then Speaker of the House of Commons ; Robert, after- 
 wards Surveyor-General of Van Diemen's Land ; and 
 Marianne, married to the Baron de St. Marsault. 
 
 Beauty, the heritage of the family, was, in her early 
 youth, denied to Marguerite ; her elder brother and sister, 
 Michael and Anne, as well as Ellen and Robert, were 
 singularly handsome and healthy children, while she, 
 pale, weakly, and ailing, was for years regarded as little 
 likely ever to grow to womanhood ; the precocity of her 
 intellect, the keenness of her perceptions, and her extreme 
 sensitiveness, all of which are so often regarded, more 
 especially among the Irish, a people peculiarly impres- 
 sionable and superstitious, as the precursive symptoms of 
 an early death, confirmed this belief, and the poor, pale, 
 reflective child was long looked upon as doomed to a 
 premature grave. 
 
 The atmosphere in which she lived was but little con- 
 genial to such a nature. Her father, a man of violent 
 temper, and little given to study the characters of his 
 children, intimidated and shook the delicate nerves of the 
 sickly child, though there were moments rare ones, it is 
 true when the sparkles of her early genius for an instant 
 dazzled and gratified him. Her mother, though she 
 failed not to bestow the tenderest maternal care on the 
 health of the little sufferer, was not capable of apprecia- 
 ting her fine and subtle qualities, and her brothers and 
 sisters, fond as they were of her, were not, in their high 
 health and boisterous gaiety, companions suited to such 
 a child. 
 
 During her earliest years, therefore, she lived in a world 
 of dreams and fancies, sufficient, at first, to satisfy her
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 infant mind, but soon all too vague and incomplete to 
 fill the blank within. Perpetual speculations, restless 
 inquiries, to which she could find no satisfactory solutions, 
 continually occupied her dawning intellect ; and, until at 
 last accident happily threw in her way. someone capable 
 of comprehending the workings of the infant spirit, it was 
 at once a torment and a blessing to her. 
 
 This person, a Miss Anne Dwyer, a visitor and friend 
 of her mother's, was herself possessed of talents and 
 information far above the standard of women in those 
 days and in those situations, where a considerable portion 
 of natural and uncultivated cleverness, an inexhaustible 
 fund of vivacity and repartee, with a very small sprinkling 
 of education and accomplishments, " two washing gowns 
 and a tune on the piano," generally formed the whole 
 dower of an Irish country girl, even when belonging to 
 some of the oldest and most respectable families. 
 
 Miss Dwyer was surprised and soon interested by the 
 reflective air and strange questions, which had excited 
 only ridicule among those who had hitherto been around 
 the child. The development of this fine organization, 
 and the aiding it to comprehend what had so long been a 
 sealed book, formed a study fraught with pleasure to her ; 
 and, while Marguerite was yet an infant, this worthy 
 woman began to undertake the task of her education. 
 She commenced by encouraging her freely to communi- 
 cate all her ideas, thoughts, and speculations, and by 
 answering her questions as clearly and satisfactorily as 
 she was able. The child, enchanted at being at length 
 understood and instructed, eagerly demanded where her 
 preceptress had found what appeared to her an inex- 
 haustible fund of knowledge. " From books," was the 
 reply ; and from that moment books seemed to her the
 
 A CONTEMPORARY SKETCH OF 
 
 most precious of all treasures. She learned to read with 
 a rapidity and facility that astonished as much as they 
 delighted her instructress : and, once possessed of this 
 source of entertainment, she became independent of all 
 other amusement. 
 
 Even at this early age, the powers of her imagination 
 had already begun to develop themselves. She would 
 entertain her brothers and sisters for hours with tales 
 invented as she proceeded, and at last so remarkable did 
 this talent become, that her parents, astonished at the 
 interest and coherence of her narrations, constantly 
 called upon her to improvise for the entertainment of their 
 friends and neighbours, a task always easy to her fertile 
 brain ; and in a short time the neglected child became 
 the wonder of the neighbourhood. Her health at length 
 began to improve ; and, though still cited as the plainest 
 of the family, there were to be found a few who ventured 
 to predict that she would one day do it no discredit. 
 
 The increasing ages of their children, and the difficulty 
 of obtaining the means of instruction for them at Knock- 
 brit, induced Mr. and Mrs. Power to put into practice a 
 design long formed of removing to Clonmel, the county 
 town of Tipperary. This change, which was looked upon 
 by her brothers and sisters as a source of infinite satis- 
 faction, was to Marguerite one of almost unmingled 
 regret. To leave the place of her birth, the scenes which 
 her passionate love of Nature had so deeply endeared to 
 her, was one of the severest trials she had ever ex- 
 perienced, and was looked forward to with sorrow and 
 dread. At last, the day arrived when she was to leave 
 the home of her childhood, and sad and lonely she stole 
 forth to the garden to bid farewell to each beloved spot. 
 
 Gathering a handful of flowers, as relics to keep in
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON xvii 
 
 memory of the place, she, fearing the ridicule of the other 
 members of the family, carefully concealed them in her 
 pocket ; and, with many tears and bitter regrets, was at 
 last driven from Knockbrit, where, as it seemed to her, 
 she left all of happiness behind her. 
 
 Arrived at their destination, the many friends with 
 whom her parents were acquainted at Clonmel eagerly 
 flocked around them. Loud and long were the praises 
 bestowed on the beauty and animation of the children, 
 with the exception of Marguerite, who, pale, sad, and 
 retiring, showed to even less advantage than usual ; and 
 she would have remained wholly unnoticed, had not the 
 projection of that homely article of dress, her pocket, 
 unfortunately attracted the attention of the lady at whose 
 house the first evening was passed. " What have you 
 got in your pocket, my dear?" she inquired of the child, 
 who, blushing with painful confusion, dared not reply to 
 the question. Her mother beckoned to her, and, thrust- 
 ing her hand into the repository of treasures, drew forth 
 from its recesses the withered flowers, so carefully placed 
 there in the morning. Shame, embarrassment, and grief, 
 all struggled in the breast of the child as the beloved 
 relics were brought to light, and contemptuously flung 
 from the window ; and, after a hard but unsuccessful 
 effort to restrain her tears, she burst into a fit of weeping, 
 which drew down accusations of folly and ill-temper, 
 at the idea that a girl of her age should amuse herself 
 by filling her pocket with withered flowers, and then cry 
 because they were taken from her ! 
 
 At Clonmel, the improving health of Marguerite, and 
 the society of children of her own age, gradually pro- 
 duced their effect on her spirits ; and, though her love of 
 reading and study continued rather to increase than 
 
 b
 
 A CONTEMPORARY SKETCH OF 
 
 abate, she became more able to join in the amuse- 
 ments of her brothers and sisters, who, delighted at the 
 change, gladly welcomed her into their society, and 
 manifested the affection which hitherto they had little 
 opportunity of displaying. 
 
 But soon it seemed as if the violent grief she had 
 experienced at quitting the place of her birth was 
 prophetic of the misfortunes which, one by one, followed 
 the removal to Clonmel. 
 
 Her father, with the recklessness too often displayed 
 by his countrymen, commenced a system of give-and-take 
 hospitality, which his means, though amply sufficient to 
 supply necessary expenses, were wholly inadequate to 
 support. 
 
 He then embarked in a speculation in which were 
 engaged the heads of some of the most respectable 
 families of Clonmel and its neighbourhood ; and so 
 successful was it at first, that he would, in all probability, 
 have been enabled to secure a comfortable independence 
 for himself and his children, when, in an evil hour, he 
 was tempted by the representations of a certain noble- 
 man, more anxious to promote his own interest and 
 influence than scrupulous as to the consequences which 
 might result to others, to accept the situation of magistrate 
 for the counties of Tipperary and Waterford, a position 
 from which no pecuniary reward was to be obtained, and 
 which, in those times of trouble and terror, was fraught 
 with difficulty and danger. 
 
 Led on by promises of a lucrative situation and hints 
 at the probability of a baronetcy, as well as by his own 
 fearless and reckless disposition, Mr. Power performed 
 the painful and onerous duties of his situation with a zeal 
 which procured for him the animosity of the friends and
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON xix 
 
 relatives in the remotest degree of those whom it was his 
 fate in the course of his office to bring to punishment, 
 and entirely precluded his giving the slightest attention 
 to the scheme which had bid so fair to re-establish the 
 fortunes of his family. His nights were spent in hunting 
 down, with troops of dragoons, the unfortunate and mis- 
 guided rebels, whose connections, in turn, burned his 
 store-houses, destroyed his plantations, and killed his 
 cattle, while for all of these losses he was repaid by the 
 most flattering encomiums from his noble friend, letters 
 of thanks from the Secretary for Ireland, acknowledging 
 his services, and by the most gratifying and marked 
 attention at the Castle, when he visited Dublin. 
 
 He was too proud to remind the nobleman he believed 
 to be his friend of his often-repeated promises, whilst 
 the latter, only too glad not to be pressed for their per- 
 formance, continued to lead on his victim, and, instead of 
 the valuable official appointment, etc., etc., proposed to 
 him to set up a newspaper, in which his lordship was to 
 procure for him the publication of the Government 
 proclamations, a source of no inconsiderable profit. 
 This journal was, of course, to advocate nothing but his 
 lordship's views, so that, by way of serving his friend, he 
 found a cheap and easy method of furthering his own 
 plans. The result may be guessed : Mr. Power, utterly 
 unsuited in every respect to the conduct of such an 
 undertaking, only became more and more deeply involved, 
 and year by year added to his difficulties. 
 
 About this time, Anne, the eldest of the family, was 
 attacked by a nervous fever, partly the result of the terror 
 and anxiety into which the whole of the family was 
 plunged by the misfortunes which gathered round them, 
 aggravated by the frequent and terrible outbreaks of rage
 
 A CONTEMPORARY SKETCH OF 
 
 to which their father, always passionate, now became 
 more than ever subject. In spite of every effort, this 
 lovely child, whose affectionate disposition and endearing 
 qualities entirely precluded any feeling of jealousy which 
 the constant praises of her extreme beauty, to the dis- 
 paragement of Marguerite, might have excited in the 
 breast of the latter, fell a victim to the disease, and not 
 long after Edmund, the second son, also died. 
 
 These successive misfortunes so impaired the health 
 and depressed the spirits of the mother, that the gloom 
 continued to fall deeper and deeper over the house. 
 
 Thus matters continued for some years, though still 
 there were moments when the natural buoyancy of child- 
 hood caused the younger members of the family to find 
 relief from the cloud of sorrow and anxiety that hung 
 over their home. The love of society still entertained by 
 their father brought not unfrequent guests to his board, 
 and enabled his children to mix with the families around. 
 Among those who visited at his house were some whose 
 names have been honourably known to their country. 
 Lord Hutchinson and his brothers, Curran, the brilliant 
 and witty Lysaght, Generals Sir Robert Mac Farlane, 
 and Sir Colquhoun Grant then lieutenant-colonels 
 and other men of talent and merit, were among these 
 visitors, and their society and conversation were the 
 greatest delight of Marguerite, who, child as she was, 
 was perfectly capable of understanding and appreciating 
 their superiority.. 
 
 At fourteen she began to enter into the society of 
 grown-up persons, an event which afforded her no small 
 satisfaction, as that of children, with the exception of her 
 brothers and sisters, especially Ellen, from whom she was 
 almost inseparable, had but little charm for her. Ellen,
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 who was somewhat more than a year her junior, shared 
 the beauty of her family, a fact of which Marguerite, 
 instead of being jealous, was proud, and the greatest 
 affection subsisted between the sisters, though there was 
 but little similarity in their dispositions or pursuits. In 
 order that they might not be separated, Ellen, notwith- 
 standing her extreme youth, was permitted to accompany 
 her sister into the society of Tipperary that is to say, to 
 assemblies held once a week, called Coteries. These, 
 though music and dancing were the principal amuse- 
 ments, were not considered as balls, to which only girls 
 of riper years were admitted. Here, though Ellen's 
 beauty at first procured her much more notice and 
 admiration than fell to the lot of her sister, the latter 
 ere long began to attract no inconsiderable degree of 
 attention. Her dancing was singularly graceful, and the 
 intelligence of her countenance and the charm of her 
 conversation produced more lasting impressions than 
 mere physical beauty could have won. Her conscious- 
 ness of the want of this attraction also induced her to 
 bestow particular pains on her dress, a taste for which 
 had, we may state en passant, very early developed 
 itself, and been the cause of many amusing adventures, 
 which our space, unfortunately, does not permit us to 
 relate. 
 
 About this period, the 47th Regiment arrived, and was 
 stationed at Clonmel, and, according to the custom of 
 country towns, particularly in Ireland, all the houses of 
 the leading gentry were thrown open to receive the 
 officers with due attention. 
 
 At a dinner given to them by her father, Marguerite 
 was immediately singled out by two of them, Captain 
 Murray and Captain Farmer, who paid her the most
 
 A CONTEMPORARY SKETCH OF 
 
 marked attention, which was renewed at a juvenile ball 
 given shortly after. 
 
 The admiration of Captain Murray, although it failed 
 to win so very youthful a heart, pleased and flattered her, 
 while that of Captain Farmer excited nothing but mingled 
 fear and distaste. She hardly knew why ; for, young, 
 good-looking, and with much to win the good graces of 
 her sex, he was generally considered as more than equal 
 to Captain Murray in the power of pleasing. 
 
 An instinct, however, which she could neither define 
 nor control, increased her dislike to such a degree at 
 every succeeding interview, that Captain Farmer, per- 
 ceiving it was in vain to address her personally, applied 
 to her parents, unknown to her, offering his hand, with 
 the most liberal proposals which a good fortune enabled 
 him to make. In ignorance of an event which was 
 destined to work so important a change in her destiny, 
 Marguerite received a similar proposal from Captain 
 Murray, who at the same time informed her of the 
 course adopted by his brother officer, and revealed a fact 
 which perhaps accounted for the instinctive dread she felt 
 for him. Captain Farmer was subject to fits of insanity, 
 so violent as to endanger the safety of himself and those 
 around him ; and even during his lucid intervals there 
 were moments when the symptoms of the terrible malady 
 might be detected in a certain wildness and abruptness of 
 speech and gesture. Astonishment, embarrassment, and 
 incredulity were the feelings uppermost in the girl's 
 mind at a communication in every way so strange and un- 
 expected. That a child of fourteen should thus seriously 
 be sought in marriage by two men seemed to her as all 
 but impossible, and that she should be kept in ignorance 
 of the fact as regarded one appeared no less so. The
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON xxiii 
 
 idea, however, that this silence on the part of her parents 
 might proceed from their having rejected the addresses 
 of her dreaded suitor occurred to relieve her mind, and, 
 feeling more pained and embarrassed than gratified by 
 the declaration of Captain Murray, she blushingly declined 
 his proposals, on the plea that she was too young to con- 
 template so serious an engagement. 
 
 A few days proved to her that the information of 
 Captain Farmer's having addressed himself to her parents 
 was but too true ; and the further discovery that these 
 addresses were sanctioned by them filled her with anxiety 
 and dismay. She knew the embarrassed circumstances 
 of her father, the desire he would naturally feel to secure 
 a union so advantageous in a worldly point of view for 
 one of his children, and she knew, too, his fiery temper, 
 his violent resistance of any attempt at opposition, and 
 the little respect, or consideration, he entertained for the 
 wishes of any of his family when contrary to his own. 
 Her mother, too, gave but little heed to what she con- 
 sidered as the foolish and romantic notions of a child 
 who was much too young to be consulted in the matter. 
 Despite of tears, prayers, and entreaties, the unfortunate 
 girl was compelled to yield to the commands of her in- 
 exorable parents ; and at fourteen and a half she was 
 united to a man who inspired her with nothing but feel- 
 ings of terror and detestation. 
 
 The result of such a union may be guessed. Her 
 husband could not but be conscious of the sentiment she 
 entertained towards him, though she endeavoured to con- 
 ceal the extent of her aversion ; and this conviction, 
 acting upon his already diseased brain, produced such 
 frequent and terrible paroxysms of rage and jealousy that 
 his victim trembled in his presence. It were needless to
 
 xxiv A CONTEMPORARY SKETCH OF 
 
 relate the details of the period of misery, distress, and 
 harrowing fear, through which Marguerite, a child in years, 
 though old in suffering, passed. Denied in her entreaties 
 to be permitted to return to the home of her parents, she 
 at last, in positive terror for her personal safety, fled from 
 the roof of her brutal persecutor to return no more. 
 
 Of the years which followed this decisive step, we can 
 give but little account. Mrs. Farmer resided principally 
 in England in the most complete seclusion, indulging to 
 the utmost her natural love of study, to which she 
 devoted the greater portion of her time. Circumstances 
 having at last induced her to fix upon London as a resi- 
 dence, she established herself in a house in Manchester 
 Square, where, with her brother Robert (Michael had 
 died in India some years previously), she remained for a 
 considerable period, enjoying in his society and her 
 favourite pursuits a degree of tranquillity which, after the 
 stormy scenes of her early years, was positive happiness. 
 
 Notwithstanding the troublous scenes through which 
 she had passed, the beauty denied her in childhood had 
 gradually budded and blossomed into a degree of loveli- 
 ness which was the admiration of all, and which Lawrence 
 painted and Byron sang. 
 
 Unknown, unfriended, and retiring from the gaze of the 
 world, her extraordinary beauty attracted, wherever she 
 appeared, a degree of attention and admiration which she 
 was far from seeking. By dint of anxious inquiries, her 
 history became partly revealed, and the interest her misfor- 
 tunes excited added to the charm that she already possessed. 
 Hosts of would-be admirers sought to win her favour, but 
 her dignity and reserve forbade any but the most respectful 
 attentions, and drove away the idle flatterers, whose ill- 
 advised gallantries met with the coldest rebuffs.
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 She received at her house those only whose age and 
 character rendered them safe friends, and a very few 
 others on whose perfect respect and consideration she 
 could wholly rely. 
 
 Among the latter was the Earl of Blessington, then a 
 widower, who entertained feelings of the deepest and 
 most respectful admiration for his beautiful hostess ; but, 
 fearful of forfeiting the privilege so highly prized of en- 
 joying the charm of her society and conversation, he 
 ventured not to give expression to any feeling that might 
 endanger the loss of this pleasure, until the occurrence of 
 an event which placed the destiny of Mrs. Farmer in her 
 own hands. 
 
 This was the death of her husband, who, at a dinner 
 given by one of his friends, locked the door, and, being 
 seized with one of the fits of insanity to which he had for 
 so many years been subject, attempted to rush out, and, 
 failing in his frenzy to open the lock, sprang to the 
 window, which stood open, and, before he could be pre- 
 vented, flung himself out, and was killed almost on the 
 spot. This event, which occurred in the year 1817, 
 left Lord Blessington at liberty to solicit the hand of 
 Mrs. Farmer, which she accorded to him, and the mar- 
 riage took place in London in the month of February, 
 1818. 
 
 Generous to lavishness, charitable, compassionate, 
 delicately considerate of the feelings of others, sincere, 
 forgiving, devoted to those she loved, and with a warmth 
 of heart rarely equalled, her change of fortune was 
 immediately felt by every member of her family. The 
 parents whose cruel obstinacy had involved her in so 
 much misery, but whose ruined circumstances now placed 
 them in need of her aid, were comfortably supported by
 
 A CONTEMPORARY SKETCH OF 
 
 her up to the period of their deaths. Her brothers and 
 sisters (the youngest of whom, Marianne, she adopted 
 and educated), and even the more distant of her relatives, 
 all profited by her benefits, assistance, and interest. 
 
 The death of Lord Blessington, from apoplexy, which 
 occurred in Paris in the year 1829, again effected a 
 change in her destiny, and was a source of the deepest 
 and most enduring affliction. She remained in Paris till 
 after the Revolution of 1830, when she returned to 
 England, and took a house in Seamore Place, Mayfair, 
 from which some years subsequently she removed to 
 Gore House, Kensington. Here, in the midst of 
 splendour and elegance, adding largely to her jointure by 
 the success of her literary efforts, she lived for some years 
 a life peculiarly suited to her taste surrounded by men 
 of distinction in every branch, loved and admired by all 
 who came within her sphere. Gore House was an arena 
 where assembled the celebrities of all nations, all politics, 
 all denominations, and all positions : it was the starting- 
 point from whence Prince Louis Napoleon Bonaparte, a 
 cherished guest through years of friendless exile, pro- 
 ceeded to head the Government of France. 
 
 But in the course of time, changes and circumstances, 
 over which Lady Blessington had no control, rendered 
 a removal from Gore House desirable. Severe domestic 
 afflictions, increasing years, and impaired health, made 
 the literary labour, in which she had been so long and 
 actively engaged, a task much too difficult and fatiguing 
 to be longer persevered in, at the same time that its 
 remuneration, in the cases of even the most popular and 
 distinguished writers, became considerably diminished. 
 The distresses in Ireland, from whence Lady Blessington's 
 income was drawn, were also the source of considerable
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 delays, disappointments, and losses. Desirous of rest, 
 and feeling the impossibility of making a change in her 
 mode of life without a change of residence, she had long 
 contemplated retiring to the Continent, where her income 
 would be sufficient to enable her to live without the 
 necessity of labour. This step was at last put into 
 execution, and, in the month of April, 1849, she removed 
 to Paris, where she took a new and beautiful appartement 
 in the Champs Elysees, which she began to occupy her- 
 self in furnishing. Having nearly completed the task, her 
 impatience to quit the hotel, where she suffered much 
 from the heat and noise, and her desire to enter her new 
 abode, induced her to remove to it before it was entirely 
 ready for her reception, and she took possession of it on 
 the 3rd of June. Early on the following morning she 
 was attacked with difficulty of breathing, a symptom from 
 which she had suffered on previous occasions, but which 
 had been lightly treated by the physicians consulted. 
 Finding herself becoming rapidly worse, she called for 
 assistance, and medical aid was instantly sent for, while, 
 in the meantime, every remedy that could be suggested 
 was applied, but in vain. She gradually sank, and 
 expired at the last tranquil as a sleeping infant ; so that 
 not even those who hung trembling over her could fix 
 with precision the moment when she drew her latest 
 breath. Enlargement of the heart, which was proved on 
 examination to have commenced at least five-and-twenty 
 years previously, was the cause of her death. Possibly 
 the change of air and mode of life, the unusual exertion 
 she had undergone during her stay in Paris, and the ex- 
 citement attendant on the removal, may have accelerated 
 the crisis, but that such a malady must soon have had a 
 fatal result was inevitable.
 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 The remains of Lady Blessington are interred in 
 France, a country for which she always entertained much 
 regard, and which, on her removal thither, she contem- 
 plated the probability of making her permanent residence. 
 They are deposited at Chambourcy, near St. Germain - 
 en-Laye, the residence of the Due and Duchesse de 
 Grammont, between whom and Lady Blessington the 
 warmest and closest intimacy had existed uninterrupted 
 from the period of her first residence in Paris. The 
 monument is erected in a most beautiful and retired 
 spot, designed by one who for nearly five-and-twenty 
 years had regarded her with a deep and filial devotion, 
 and whose only consolation was to be found in paying 
 the last tribute of tenderness and respect to her cherished 
 memory. We allude to Comte D'Orsay, whose dying 
 mother had with her latest breath exacted from . Lady 
 Blessington a promise never to leave her son, a similar 
 promise having been made to her by Lord Blessington, 
 who loved him with a paternal affection. This mutual 
 engagement was kept to the letter, and the quarter of a 
 century that they remained together only served to 
 strengthen and consolidate the tender regard that sub- 
 sisted between them. In Comte D'Orsay, Lady Blessing- 
 ton found the son that nature had withheld from her, 
 and on him she bestowed that tenderness with which her 
 heart overflowed. His wishes, his interests, were ever 
 the moving principle of her actions; his friends were hers, 
 and to love or dislike him (and her quick and feminine 
 instinct never failed to teach her where either sentiment 
 existed) was the best claim to her affection, or the 
 strongest provocative to her antipathy. 
 
 M. A. P.
 
 MEMOIR OF 
 THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 THE Countess of Blessington wrote several works 
 of fiction, but none of her books had more romance 
 in it than her life. 
 
 She was born on September i, 1789, at Knock- 
 brit, near Clonmel, her father being Edmund 
 Power, a small landowner. She had three sisters, 
 all of whom were handsome from their youth, 
 while she was the reverse of attractive in her earlier 
 years. Though Marguerite, for so she was named, 
 was not blessed with beauty as a young girl, she had 
 cleverness in excess of her brothers and sisters, and 
 was famed for her powers as a story-teller. Her 
 childhood was unhappy, owing in great part to the 
 unkindness of her father, who was a tyrant abroad 
 and a bully at home. 
 
 Marguerite acquired beauty with years. Before 
 she was fifteen her good looks attracted suitors, one 
 of whom found favour in her father's eyes. A match 
 
 [xxix]
 
 xxx MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 was made between Captain Farmer of the 47th 
 Regiment and Marguerite against her inclination 
 and without her consent, her mother being as averse 
 as her father to marrying her to a man who had an 
 ungovernable temper and whom she loathed. She 
 was but fourteen and a half when this unhallowed 
 alliance was consummated, and her feelings and 
 sufferings cannot be set forth better than in the 
 words she uttered to her friend and biographer, 
 Mr. Madden : " She had not been long under her 
 husband's roof when it became evident to her that he 
 was subject to fits of insanity, and his own relatives 
 informed her that her father had been acquainted 
 by them that Captain Farmer had been insane, but 
 this information had been concealed from her by 
 her father. She lived with him about three months, 
 and during this time he frequently treated her with 
 personal violence : he used to strike her on the face, 
 pinch her till her arms were black and blue, lock her 
 up whenever he went abroad, and often left her with- 
 out food till she felt almost famished." 
 
 Captain Farmer may not have been actually in- 
 sane, and what his young and inexperienced wife 
 considered to be attacks of insanity may really have 
 been epileptic fits ; but it appears to have been 
 demonstrated that his temper was atrocious. In a 
 quarrel with the Colonel of his regiment he drew 
 his sword and threatened him with it. This unpardon- 
 able act of insubordination was charitably attributed
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON xxxi 
 
 to temporary loss of reason, and he was permitted 
 to sell his commission and retire from the service. 
 About ten years afterwards he died in London, 
 from a fall out of the window of the King's Bench 
 prison, when on a visit to some friends who were 
 confined there, and after the party had drunk four 
 quarts of rum. 
 
 For a short time after separating from her hus- 
 band, Mrs. Farmer lived in her father's house, where 
 she was not a welcome guest. Mr. Power seems to 
 have been a very bad specimen of the debauched 
 squireen of a past generation. When stretched on 
 a bed of suffering he told a friend who paid him a 
 visit the day before his death that he had drunk five 
 tumblers of punch the previous evening. 
 
 Mrs. Farmer did not remain long to enjoy the 
 shelter of her father's roof, finding hospitality from 
 relatives at Cahir and Dublin. Her beauty must 
 have been so remarkable as to have made some friend 
 or relative consider that it should be perpetuated 
 on canvas, as at eighteen Sir Thomas Lawrence was 
 commissioned to paint her portrait. There is a 
 mystery about her existence at this time which has 
 not been solved, and which may not deserve investi- 
 gation. Mr. Madden, who knew her intimately and 
 wrote a eulogistic biography, contents himself with 
 the remark that there is a period of her life, extend- 
 ing over nine years, about which the record is silent, 
 and he does not attempt to fill up the blank. It
 
 xxxii MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 does not follow that anything had occurred which 
 ought to have been concealed ; all that can be truth- 
 fully said is that nothing is known. In 1809 she 
 was in Dublin ; next she sojourned in Hampshire ; 
 and in 1816 she was living in London, with her 
 brother Robert, at a house in Manchester Square. 
 On February 16, 1818, four months after her hus- 
 band's death, Mrs. Farmer became the second wife 
 of the Earl of Blessington. The pair cannot be 
 said to have been ill-matched in years, as the 
 wife was twenty-eight and the husband thirty- 
 five. 
 
 Lord Blessington's income was ,30,000. His 
 tastes were expensive, and his second wife, who 
 had not been extravagant before marrying him, 
 revelled in luxury after her marriage. The house 
 in St. James's Square in which the Blessingtons 
 lived was furnished with that utter disregard of 
 expense which ends in ruin. It was the meeting- 
 place of a brilliant society, and Lady Blessington 
 sat as a queen in a circle of admirers. She was 
 clever as well as lovely, witty as well as high-placed, 
 yet, while enjoying all the pleasures which money 
 can supply, she sighed for the fame which money 
 alone will not purchase. 
 
 Her ambition to become a leader in the world of 
 letters as well as in that of fashion led to the pub- 
 lication of two works from her pen in 1822, the 
 one being entitled "The Magic Lantern," the other
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON, xxxiii 
 
 " Sketches and Fragments," both of them contain- 
 ing accounts of the life led in the society wherein 
 she moved, and reflections upon it. Neither work 
 was successful. Longmans were the publishers of 
 both, and they could not hand over to the authoress 
 more than a few pounds, which represented her share 
 of the small profit on the second work, the first 
 having yielded nothing. At that time, however, the 
 Countess of Blessington was sublimely indifferent to 
 money, being provided with enough for her needs 
 by a husband who joyfully lavished his large fortune 
 upon her. The sum which the publishers handed 
 to her was bestowed in charity. 
 
 During three years the house of the Blessingtons 
 was one in which all who were remarkable in the 
 world of fashion and intellect congregated and 
 shone. It was as noted as Holland House as a 
 centre of attraction, and Lady Blessington numbered 
 women of rank and virtue among her guests as well 
 as men of mark in society, while Lady Holland's 
 invitations were accepted by men only. At a later 
 period in Lady Blessington's career, her position in 
 society came to resemble that of Lady Holland. 
 
 Early in 1822, a Frenchman named Count D'Orsay 
 accompanied his sister and her husband, the Due de 
 Guiche,- when they journeyed to England, and visited 
 the Blessingtons. The Count was young, handsome, 
 and highly accomplished. He ingratiated himself 
 with men as easily as with women, and he soon 
 
 c
 
 xxxiv ^MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 became on intimate terms with the Earl of Blessing- 
 ton and his wife. 
 
 On August 22, 1822, the Earl and Countess 
 started for the Continent with the view of seeing 
 much of France and Italy in a leisurely way, and of 
 stopping at Genoa and seeing Byron, with whom 
 the Earl was personally acquainted. The Countess 
 of Blessington kept a journal of her experiences, 
 which was published in 1839, and was entitled "The 
 Idler in Italy." In that account there is a contrast 
 which is most striking between the period of which 
 she writes and that in which we live, not only as 
 to the manner, but the purpose of travelling. The 
 journey was made with strict attention to the comfort 
 which money could procure, and it was also made in 
 the leisurely way which has long gone out of fashion. 
 Seven months were passed on the road from London 
 to Genoa, and places of interest were visited with a 
 thoroughness which is now rare. The narrative is 
 sometimes minute to tediousness, and the opening 
 pages are in very bad taste, five of them being 
 devoted to comments upon the physical sufferings of 
 the Countess's fellow-passengers when crossing the 
 Channel from Dover to Calais. 
 
 Many interesting facts are scattered through the 
 work, and some of the passages about Byron supple- 
 ment those in the "Conversations." She mentions 
 several persons whom she met while in France and 
 Italy ; but the name of Count D'Orsay is not among
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON xxxv 
 
 the number, yet he renewed in Paris the acquaintance 
 which he had begun in London ; he afterwards 
 rejoined the party at Valence and Avignon, and, 
 as a result of his perseverance and attention, he 
 was invited to join it. 
 
 The start from Paris was made in state. The 
 Blessingtons had brought men and women servants 
 from London, and they soon found, as the Countess 
 records, " the greater number of domestics one is 
 compelled to keep, the greater are the torments they 
 inflict." In Paris they "murmured at the hardships 
 to which they are exposed. . . . The ladies'-maids 
 sigh for their tea and toast, and the men groan 
 at the absence of their beef and porter." It must 
 be added in fairness that Lady Blessington was a 
 grumbler also, and it is possible that her husband 
 was equally exacting and discontented. She pro- 
 nounces the dinners at her hotel execrable, and 
 she complains that cooking in Paris has greatly 
 degenerated within her own memory. This was 
 in 1822 ; a similar complaint is often made now. 
 She likens a perfect French dinner to the conversa- 
 tion of a very clever and highly-educated man : 
 " enough of the raciness of the inherent natural 
 quality remains to gratify the taste, but is rendered 
 more attractive by the manner in which it is pre- 
 sented." Moreover, she quotes a remark of an 
 old nobleman, which is curious enough to deserve 
 repetition : " He used to say he could judge of a
 
 xxxvi MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 man's birth by the dishes he preferred ; but above 
 all by the vegetables : truffles, morels, mushrooms, 
 and peas in their infancy, he designated as aristo- 
 cratic vegetables ; but all the vast stock of beans, 
 full-grown peas, carrots, turnips, parsnips, cauli- 
 flowers, onions, etc., he said, were only fit for the 
 vulgar." 
 
 Two carnages and a " fourgon," or baggage- 
 waggon, carried the party and attendants. A 
 courier superintended all arrangements, and a 
 cook, who had prepared dishes for an Emperor, 
 joined the party at Paris. Towards the end of her 
 work the Countess gives vent to her feelings with 
 regard to the "fourgon," which she styles "a real 
 blessing to women," as it removes half the in- 
 convenience of travel : " From its roomy store- 
 house are drawn forth those movable articles so 
 indispensable to the ' comfort of the learned and 
 curious, not only in fish sauces,' but in arranging 
 houses. Thence come the patent brass bed, that 
 gives repose at night, and the copious supply 
 of books which ensures amusement during the day. 
 Thence emerge the modern inventions of easy- 
 chairs and sofas to occupy the smallest space 
 when packed ; batteries de cuisine, to enable a 
 cook to fulfil the arduous duties of his me'tier ; 
 and though last, not least, cases to contain the 
 delicate chapeaux, toqiies, berets, and bonnets of a 
 Herbault, too fragile to bear the less easy motion
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON xxxvii 
 
 of leathern band-boxes crowning imperials. Yes, 
 a ' fourgon ' is one of the comforts of life." 
 
 I do not wonder that a French spectator of the 
 preparations for the departure from the hotel of the 
 Blessingtons' party of attendants should have ex- 
 claimed : "How strange those English are! One 
 would suppose that, instead of a single family, a 
 regiment at least was about to move. How many 
 things those people require to satisfy them !" 
 
 Geneva was the first city of importance at which 
 the party halted after leaving Paris ; the principal 
 towns of Switzerland were next visited. At Lau- 
 sanne the Countess saw the house in which Gibbon 
 lived, and the garden where he walked after writing 
 the last page of his history, and soliloquized on the 
 occasion in words which are the most pathetic of 
 any from his pen. A hotel now stands on the site 
 of his house ; but the garden attached to it is 
 different from that in which Gibbon delighted. 
 Berne, Zurich, Lucerne were visited in succession, 
 and then the party returned to Geneva, travelling 
 thence to Lyons. The principal places visited after 
 leaving Lyons were Grenoble, Valence, Orange, and 
 Avignon, where a halt of several months was made. 
 
 It is noteworthy that the Countess of Blessington 
 was not only an indefatigable sightseer, but a careful 
 recorder of what she saw and ascertained, and her 
 observations are seldom commonplace, while some- 
 times they are very acute. She did not transcribe
 
 xxxviii MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 into her journal what she had read in a guide-book. 
 Wherever she went she was introduced to the men 
 who had studied the subjects in which she was 
 interested : the information which local antiquaries 
 and men of learning supplied was worth hearing 
 and recording. She saw everything to the best 
 advantage, and enjoyed to the full the opportunities 
 which she had for acquiring knowledge. For this 
 reason the journal which she diligently kept during 
 her travels has not yet lost its interest or its 
 charm. 
 
 Leaving Avignon on February 16, 1823, the 
 party went to Aix, the capital of Provence. Many 
 touches in Lady Blessington's journal betray her 
 character and excite a smile. She was not born 
 in the lap of luxury. She did not enjoy the sweets 
 of existence in the house of her first husband ; 
 yet, after becoming the Countess of Blessington, 
 she writes as if she had been accustomed all her 
 days to sybaritic ease and aristocratic station. Any 
 discomfort in travel she resents as an affront. A 
 catalogue of her lamentations would not be edifying, 
 and I abstain from preparing one ; but an instance 
 of her grievances may be cited by way of specimen. 
 Having nothing else to complain of at Aix, she 
 finds fault with the milk and the butter, the milk 
 coming from goats and the butter from a distance. 
 What seems to have tantalized her was that an 
 English family settled there possessed the only cow
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON xxxix 
 
 in the city, and that she could not procure "either 
 cream or butter, or, at least, any that was palat- 
 able." 
 
 From Aix the party journeyed to Marseilles, 
 thence to Toulon, making a stay of some length at 
 both, and one of a few hours only at Cannes, which 
 was then a small fishing village. The Countess 
 enjoyed the beauty of the prospect between Nice 
 and Antibes, and Antibes and Nice a treat which 
 is denied to the traveller by express train now. 
 She writes that never had she beheld before "any 
 scenery that could surpass that which presents itself 
 to the eye on crossing the mountains that lead to 
 Antibes" ; and she afterwards adds: "The prospect 
 from the height above Antibes is one of the finest I 
 have ever seen. Hills covered with wood, whence 
 a spire, village, or chateau, is seen to peep forth ; the 
 blue waters of the Mediterranean spread out in front; 
 and the snow-crowned mountains of the Maritime 
 Alps rearing their heads to the clouds, form a 
 magnificent picture." 
 
 She was unfavourably impressed with Nice, then an 
 Italian city, and at the height of its undeserved popu- 
 larity as a place of resort for invalids from England. 
 She found, as these poor invalids did to their sorrow, 
 that the climate was far less genial in winter than that 
 of many places on the southern shores of the British 
 Isles. She witnessed sights which are happily rare 
 now that it is generally understood that none but
 
 xl MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 those who are robust ought to select Nice as a place 
 of residence in winter. " I am filled with pity," she 
 writes, "when I meet some fair English girl, with the 
 bright hectic tinge on her delicate cheek, and the 
 lustrous eyes, which betoken the presence of that 
 most perfidious and fatal of all diseases, consump- 
 tion, mounted on a pony, led by a father, a brother, 
 or one who hoped to stand in a still more tender 
 relation to her. I tremble when I see the warm 
 cloak in which she is enveloped swept by the rude 
 wind from her shrinking shoulders, and hear that 
 fearful cough which shakes her tortured chest. A 
 few weeks, and such invalids (and, alas ! they are 
 many) are seen no more ; and the mourning parents 
 retrace their route with the bitter knowledge that 
 they left their home in vain nay, that the change 
 of climate which they fondly anticipated would have 
 preserved their darling had accelerated her death." 
 
 The change which has occurred in the manner of 
 travel along the Riviera cannot be better exemplified 
 than by stating that the Blessingtons could not drive 
 in their carriage from Nice to Genoa, and had to 
 send it with their servants by sea, proceeding as far 
 as Mentone in light vehicles of the country, and 
 continuing their journey on muleback. While Lady 
 Blessington was favoured with information from local 
 antiquaries at every place where she sojourned, she 
 was not able to learn on the way from Nice to 
 Mentone what the traveller now can easily do by
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON xli 
 
 turning to one of Murray's guide - books. An 
 instance of the want of such a fund of facts was 
 supplied when the little village of Turbia, on the 
 Cornice road, was reached. Here was seen what 
 she calls "one of the most picturesque ruins imagin- 
 able." She tried to learn something about it, but 
 failed to get anything more than the unsatisfying 
 answer from the Custom-house officer " that it was a 
 very fine and ancient ruin, well worth the attention 
 of travellers." Had Lady Blessington possessed 
 such a guide-book as any traveller can now carry, 
 she would have learned that the picturesque ruin 
 was a trophy of Augustus, erected by the Roman 
 Senate to commemorate the subjugation of forty- 
 five Gaulish tribes. 
 
 Looking down from this part of the road, the 
 houses of Monaco are visible 2,000 feet below. 
 Lady Blessington states that "the village of Monaco" 
 looked like a town built for children, and she 
 adds that its pigmy white houses "have a beauti- 
 ful appearance." A great poet saw the same sight 
 several years afterwards, and his lines have rendered 
 it memorable for ever. What Tennyson beheld 
 and felt is told in " The Daisy" : 
 
 " What Roman strength Turbia showed 
 In ruin, by the mountain-side ; 
 How like a gem, beneath, the city 
 Of little Monaco, basking, glowed." 
 
 At Mentone she had to sleep on a mattress filled
 
 xlii MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 with Indian corn straw, and she was surprised to 
 find it as comfortable as the most luxurious couch. 
 But her regard for appearances is shown by the 
 comment : " How an English housemaid would 
 wonder to see a fine lady content with such a 
 bed !" 
 
 Despite Lady Blessington's professed inability to 
 endure hardships when travelling, and notwithstand- 
 ing that she makes the unsuspecting reader imagine 
 that her whole life had been passed in splendid 
 affluence, there is an unexpected absence from her 
 narrative of complaint about the harshness of her 
 lot when she had to journey on muleback from 
 Mentone to Genoa. Indeed, the change in the 
 mode of locomotion gave her such pleasure that she 
 stated, " There cannot be a more agreeable mode of 
 travelling than on mules." 
 
 On March 31, 1823, she entered Genoa with 
 the party, which then numbered thirteen, and 
 occupied rooms at the Albergo della Villa, which 
 appeared to her a palace in comparison with the 
 inns at which she had lodged on the way. The 
 chief purpose of a long, leisurely and an uneventful 
 journey was nearly attained. The party started 
 with Genoa as a destination, and a meeting with 
 Byron as an object. Lady Blessington had not 
 lost any opportunity by the way for conversing 
 about him, and she was able to note that "he is 
 much in vogue in France, and a lively curiosity exists
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON xliii 
 
 respecting him. The French regard him as a 
 most mysterious character, in which much of evil 
 and good, the former, however, preponderating, 
 is mingled." When Genoa had been reached at 
 length, she thus gave expression to the thought 
 which was uppermost in her mind : " Desirous as 
 I am to see 'Genoa the Superb,' with its street 
 of palaces, and the treasures of art they contain 
 I confess that its being the residence of Lord 
 Byron gives it a still greater attraction for me. 
 His works have excited such a lively interest in my 
 mind, and the stories related of him have so much 
 increased it, that I look forward to making his 
 acquaintance with impatience. Should he decline 
 seeing us, as he has done to many of his acquaint- 
 ances, it will be a great disappointment to me ; but 
 I will not anticipate such an annoyance. I long to 
 compare him with the beau-iddal I have formed in 
 my mind's eye, and to judge how far the descrip- 
 tions given of him are correct." 
 
 On the following day, after she had taken a bath, 
 as she is careful to state, and had declined to receive 
 Lord William Russell because she had not dressed 
 herself, she made the following entry in her journal : 
 " And am I indeed in the same town with Byron ? 
 and to-morrow I may, perhaps, behold him ! I 
 never before felt the same impatient longing to 
 see anyone known to me only by his works. I 
 hope he may not be fat, as Moore described him
 
 xliv MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 to be at Venice ; for a fat poet is an anomaly, in 
 my opinion. Well, well, to-morrow I may know 
 what he is like : and now to bed, to sleep away 
 the fatigues of my journey." 
 
 The "Journal of the Conversations" begins with 
 the words, " Saw Lord Byron for the first time," and 
 the succeeding sentences are devoted to expressing 
 the writer's disappointment. In the journal written 
 at the time, from which the other was afterwards 
 compiled, the disappointment is even more emphati- 
 cally expressed. A passage in the original, or, at 
 least, the earlier version, ought to have been repro- 
 duced in the second, as it forms an excellent intro- 
 duction to what follows. It should be explained 
 that Byron was then stopping at the Casa Saluzzi, 
 in the village of Albaro, which is a mile and a half 
 from Genoa. The party drove thither. It con- 
 sisted of the Earl and Countess, a gentleman whose 
 name she does not give, but who was Count D'Orsay, 
 and Miss Power, the youngest sister of the Countess. 
 
 What followed is thus set forth in "The Idler 
 in Italy": "When we arrived at the gate of the 
 courtyard of the Casa Saluzzi, where he resides, 
 Lord Blessington and a gentleman of our party left 
 the carriage and sent in their names. They were 
 admitted immediately and experienced a very cordial 
 reception from Lord Byron, who expressed himself 
 delighted to see his old acquaintance. Lord Byron 
 requested to be presented to me, which led to Lord
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON xlv 
 
 Blessington's avowing that I was in the carriage at 
 the gate with my sister. Byron immediately hurried 
 out into the court, and I, who heard the sound of 
 steps, looked through the gate, and beheld him ap- 
 proaching quickly without his hat and considerably 
 in advance of the other two gentlemen. ' You must 
 have thought me quite as ill-bred and saiivage as 
 fame reports,' said Byron, bowing very low, ' in 
 having permitted your ladyship to remain a quarter 
 of an hour at my gate ; but my old friend, Lord 
 Blessington, is to blame, for I only heard a minute 
 ago that I was so highly honoured. I shall think 
 you do not pardon this apparent rudeness unless 
 you enter my abode, which I entreat you will do ;' 
 and he offered his hand to assist me to descend from 
 the carriage. In the vestibule stood his chasseur 
 in full uniform, with two or three other domestics, 
 and the expression of surprise visible in their coun- 
 tenances evinced that they were not habituated to 
 see their lord display so much cordiality to visitors." 
 The visit is said to have been a long one, and 
 it is further said that Byron objected to its being 
 shortened when the party first rose to go. The 
 Countess adds : " He expressed warmly, at our 
 departure, the pleasure w r hich our visit had afforded 
 him, and I doubt not his- sincerity : not that I would 
 arrogate any merit in us, to account for his satis- 
 faction, but simply because I can perceive that he 
 likes hearing news of his old haunts and associates,
 
 xlvi MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSL\GTON 
 
 and likes also to pass them en revue, pronouncing en 
 passant opinions in which wit and sly sarcasm are 
 more obvious than good-nature." 
 
 The foregoing statement is explicit and most 
 complimentary to all parties, yet doubts have been 
 thrown upon its correctness by the Countess's 
 biographer. As Mr. Madden had no object in 
 writing what was unpleasant about the subject of his 
 biography, it may be inferred that he would have 
 refrained from any disparaging comment, unless his 
 authority for making it was entirely trustworthy. 
 His conclusion is that the Countess was annoyed 
 during her first interview with Byron, and he in- 
 sinuates that the great poet may have failed in 
 paying due homage to the great beauty's intellect. 
 A beautiful woman is always exacting as to her 
 intellect, and a plain one as to her face, both enjoy- 
 ing the most the flattery which they least deserve. 
 Whatever the case may be matters but little. Mr. 
 Madden's statement concerning the visit to Byron, 
 which he makes on the authority of one " who 
 had good knowledge of all the circumstances of this 
 visit," is to the effect that Lady Blessington is in 
 error in representing the interview to have been 
 sought by Byron, and that "a little ruse was practised 
 on his lordship to obtain it. A rainy forenoon was 
 selected for the drive to Byron's villa. Thus shelter 
 was necessitated, and that necessity furnished a plea 
 for a visit which would not have been made without
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON xlvii 
 
 some awkwardness under other circumstances. Lord 
 Blessington, having been admitted at once on pre- 
 senting himself at Byron's door, was on the point of 
 taking his departure, apologizing for the briefness of 
 the visit on account of Lady Blessington being left 
 in an open carriage in the courtyard, the rain then 
 falling, when Byron immediately insisted on de- 
 scending with Lord Blessington and conducting her 
 ladyship into his house." 
 
 The foregoing statement is open to the criticism 
 that one part of it is incorrect. This is the part to the 
 effect that a rainy day was "selected" for the drive 
 to Albaro. The Blessingtons reached Genoa on 
 March 31, and paid the visit on the morning of the 
 following day ; hence they did not purposely choose 
 a day on which rain fell. I fear that Mr. Madden 
 was over-credulous in accepting the story of his 
 anonymous informant. Byron did not express any 
 distaste to the visit. He returned it the next day, 
 and then he wrote as follows to Moore : " I have 
 just seen some friends of yours, who paid me a visit 
 yesterday, which, in honour of them and of you, I 
 returned to-day ; as I reserve my bear-skin and 
 teeth, and paws and claws, for our enemies. . . . 
 Your allies, whom I found very agreeable personages, 
 are Milor Blessington and Spouse, travelling with a 
 very handsome companion, in the shape of a 
 1 French Count ' (to use Farquhar's phrase in the 
 1 Beau's Stratagem'), who has all the air of a Cupidon
 
 xlviii MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 de'chaine', and is one of the few specimens I have 
 seen of our ideal of a Frenchman before the Revolu- 
 tion an old friend with a new face, upon whose 
 like I never thought that we should look again. 
 Miladi seems highly literary, to which and your 
 honour's acquaintance with the family I attribute 
 the pleasure of having seen them. She is also very 
 pretty, even in a morning, a species of beauty on 
 which the sun of Italy does not shine so frequently 
 as the chandelier." 
 
 The Countess of Blessington's version of this visit 
 which she gives in "The Idler in Italy" is less detailed 
 than that in the "Conversations," yet it deserves read- 
 ing: "Lord Byron has just left our hotel; he came to 
 us about two o'clock and remained until half-past four. 
 It is strange to see the perfect abandon with which he 
 converses to recent acquaintances, on subjects which 
 even friends would think too delicate for discussion. 
 I do not like this openness on affairs that should be 
 only confided to long-tried intimacy : it betrays a 
 want of the delicacy and decorum which a sensitive 
 mind ought to possess, and leaves him at the mercy 
 of every chance acquaintance to whom he may 
 make his imprudent disclosures. Byron seems to 
 take a pleasure in censuring England and its customs; 
 yet it is evident to me that he rails at it and them as 
 a lover does at the faults of his mistress, not loving 
 her the less even while he rails. ... He has promised 
 to dine with us on Thursday ; this being, as he
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON xlix 
 
 asserts, the first dinner invitation which he has 
 accepted during two years." 
 
 This dinner is described in the "Conversations" 
 and "The Idler in Italy" ; the following passage in 
 the latter deserves to be added to the record in the 
 former: ''Byron loves to dwell in conversation on his 
 own faults. How far he might endure their recapitu- 
 lation by another remains to be proved ; but I have 
 observed that those persons who display the greatest 
 frankness in acknowledging their errors, are pre- 
 cisely those who most warmly resent their detection 
 by another. . . But it appears to me that Byron is 
 more ready to acknowledge his infirmities than to 
 correct them ; nay, that he considers the candour of 
 his confession as an amende honorable" 
 
 The "Conversations" contain no mention of the 
 intercourse between Byron and the Blessingtons for 
 several days after the incidents last narrated, yet 
 there are many references in "The Idler in Italy" 
 to meetings and excursions. The poet and Lady 
 Blessington rode on horseback to places of interest 
 in the neighbourhood. His talk during the rides 
 was often worthy of preservation on account of its 
 suggestiveness and the light which it threw on his 
 character. Lady Blessington having made it clear 
 to Byron that she was surprised at his insensibility 
 to the beauties of the views which he pointed out, he 
 smiled and said: "I suppose you expected me to ex- 
 plode into some enthusiastic exclamations on the sea, 
 
 d
 
 1 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 the scenery, etc., such as poets indulge in, or rather, 
 are supposed to indulge in ; but the truth is, I hate 
 cant of any kind, and the cant of the love of nature 
 as much as any other." Byron may have been per- 
 fectly sincere in thus speaking ; yet it is not easy to 
 determine when he was in earnest or when he was 
 indulging in the cant against which he protested. If 
 he really appreciated these natural beauties, there 
 was more affectation in denying than in admitting 
 the fact. Sir Walter Scott never concealed his love 
 for the scenery at or near to Abbotsford when he 
 pointed out the best views to his guests. How- 
 ever, a softer side to Byron's nature is shown by 
 the Countess, and its existence ought to be borne in 
 mind: "He has a passion for flowers, and purchases 
 bouquets from the vendors on the road, who have 
 tables piled with them. He bestows charity on 
 every mendicant who asks it ; and his manner in 
 giving is gentle and kind. The people seem all to 
 know his face, and to like him ; and many recount 
 their affairs as if they were sure of his sympathy." 
 
 While the Blessingtons were at Genoa, the 
 project of going to Greece as a volunteer was 
 growing into a resolve on Byron's part, and he 
 talked with Lady Blessington of his intention and 
 hopes. She gives in "The Idler in Italy" the 
 substance of his talk, and she adds some comments 
 of her own which are shrewd and just. The 
 following entry was made on April 12: "Byron
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON li 
 
 asserts that he who is only a poet has done little 
 for mankind, and that he will endeavour to prove 
 in his own person that a poet may be a soldier. 
 1 hat Byron will fulfil this self-imposed duty is, I 
 think, nearly certain ; and that he will fulfil it 
 bravely I entertain not a doubt ; yet, from what I 
 have seen of him, I should say that his vocation is 
 more for a reflective than an active life, and that the 
 details and contrarieties to which, from the position 
 he will hold in Greece, he must be subjected, will 
 exhaust his patience and impair his health." 
 
 In the course of a ride with him on April 16, she 
 learned something about his tastes which she did 
 not reproduce in the " Conversations." She notes her 
 surprise at his indifference to works of art, and his 
 remark that " he feels art while others prate about 
 it." He had not visited a single palace in Genoa, 
 nor had be been once at the opera. He said that 
 he liked music, and he added : " But I do not know 
 the least of it as a science ; indeed, I am glad that 
 I do not, for a perfect knowledge might rob it ot 
 half its charms. At present I only know that a 
 plaintive air softens and a lively one cheers one. 
 Martial music renders me brave ; and voluptuous 
 music disposes me to be luxurious, even effeminate. 
 Now, were I skilled in the science, I should become 
 fastidious, and instead of yielding to the fascination 
 of sweet sounds, I should be analyzing, or criticising, 
 or connoisseurshipizing (to use a word of my own
 
 lii MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 making), instead of simply enjoying them as at 
 present. In the same way, I never would study 
 botany. I don't want to know why certain flowers 
 please me ; enough for me that they do, and I leave 
 to those who have no better occupation the analysis 
 of the sources of their pleasure, which I can enjoy 
 without the useless trouble." 
 
 The Blessingtons remained two months in Genoa, 
 and when they prepared to leave Byron pressed 
 them to stay. On May 5 he accompanied Lady 
 Blessington to a villa near his own at Albaro, 
 which he thought would suit her. She expressed 
 a wish to buy it, and then he wrote the following- 
 lines, which owe their point to the fact of the villa 
 being called "11 Paradiso" : 
 
 " Beneath Blessington's eyes 
 
 The reclaimed paradise 
 Should be free as the former from evil ; 
 
 But if the new Eve 
 
 For an apple should grieve, 
 What mortal would not play the devil ?" 
 
 Having written the lines, he laughingly said : " In 
 future times people will come to see // Paradiso, 
 where Byron wrote an impromptu on his country- 
 woman : thus our names will be associated when we 
 have long ceased to exist." Mr. Madden remarks, 
 on Lady Blessington's authority, that the conceit 
 which he versified had been first spoken in prose. 
 The occasion was a masked ball in Genoa, to which
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON liii 
 
 Byron talked of going, and wished her to accompany 
 him. Someone present having suggested that, if 
 Lady Blessington went, she should personate Eve, 
 Byron exclaimed: "As someone must play the devil, 
 I will do it." 
 
 There is a difference of opinion as to the degree of 
 intimacy between Byron and the Blessingtons while 
 the latter sojourned in Genoa, and, if Countess 
 Guiccioli be trusted implicitly, Lady Blessington and 
 Byron did not see each other more than five or six 
 times. On the same authority, it is said that Byron 
 was reluctant to converse freely with a lady who 
 might publish his remarks. On the other hand, 
 Lady Blessington felt convinced that she had exer- 
 cised a salutary softening influence over Byron, and 
 that her talks with him had proved edifying. Moore's 
 decision is that Lady Blessington accomplished what 
 she aimed at effecting. It is not improbable that 
 jealousy may have caused Countess Guiccioli to 
 regard with unfriendly eyes the association of her 
 lover with a lady whose beauty was the theme of all 
 tongues ; she may have remonstrated with Byron, 
 and he may have reassured her by minimizing the 
 number of his meetings with Lady Blessington. 
 
 Another reason, however, doubtless influenced 
 Byron in desiring that the departure of the Bless- 
 ingtons should be delayed. He had been struck 
 with Count D'Orsay at the outset, and he probably 
 delighted in his society as much as in that of Lady
 
 liv MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 Blessington. During his stay in England the Count 
 had kept a journal, which Byron read and enjoyed, 
 styling it, when writing to the Earl of Blessington, "a 
 most extraordinary production and of a most melan- 
 choly truth in all that regards high life in England." 
 On another occasion he sends his compliments 
 to Alfred, adding, " I think, since his Majesty of 
 the same name, there has not been such a learned 
 surveyor of our Saxon society." Writing to Count 
 D'Orsay, he said, after praising his journal, "Though 
 I love my country, I do not love my countrymen 
 at least, such as they now are. And, besides the 
 seduction of talent and wit in your work, I fear that 
 to me there was the attraction of vengeance. I have 
 seen and felt much of what you have described so 
 well. I have known the persons, and the reunions, 
 so described many of them, that is to say and 
 the portraits are so like that I cannot but admire the 
 painter no less than his performance. And I am 
 sorry for you ; for if you are so well acquainted with 
 life at your age, what will become of you when the 
 illusion is still more dissipated ? But never mind 
 en avant ! live while you can ; and that you may 
 have the full enjoyment of the many advantages of 
 youth, talent and figure which you possess is the 
 wish of an Englishman, I suppose, but it is no 
 treason ; for my mother was Scotch, and my name 
 and family are both Norman ; and as for myself, I 
 am of no country."
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON Iv 
 
 Byron showed the journal to Countess Guiccioli, as 
 appears in a letter from him to the Earl of Blessing- 
 ton, where, after saying that she was a celebrated 
 beauty as well as well educated, he adds that "she 
 was delighted with it," and says that she " has 
 derived a better notion of English society from it 
 than from all Madame de StaeTs metaphysical dis- 
 putations on the same subject, in her work on the 
 Revolution/" 
 
 Before their departure, the Blessingtons became 
 the owners of Byron's yacht, The Bolivar. It is 
 assumed by some writers that, if he had gone to 
 Greece in this yacht he could not have resisted 
 Countess Guiccioli's entreaties to accompany him.t 
 
 * Mr. Cordy Jeaffreson, the painstaking author of the " Real 
 Lord Byron," puts these questions at page 203 of the second 
 volume: "What has become of the young Count's journal ? In 
 whose keeping does it rest ? Will it be found two centuries hence 
 in English libraries, side by side with Grammont's ' Memoirs ' ?" 
 If so acute an investigator as this should have put such questions, 
 others may be pardoned for not knowing there is an answer to 
 them, which I now supply. On page 324 of the first volume of 
 "The Literary Life and Correspondence of the Countess of Bless- 
 ington," Mr. Madden writes: "Count D'Orsay's journal was burnt 
 by himself some years back." 
 
 t After Byron's death, Countess Guiccioli became the intimate 
 friend of Lady Blessington and often visited her in England. 
 Mr. W. Arthur Shee saw her at Gore House in May, 1837, and 
 writes of her as follows in his recently published work, " My 
 Contemporaries " : "I have long wished to see the Guiccioli, and 
 last night I met her at Lady Blessington's. Great was my disap- 
 pointment. I had pictured to myself one so fair, fragile, and 
 fascinating as to excuse the entetement of Byron. . . . But what
 
 Ivi MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 Whatever his reasons for selling the yacht, he drove 
 a hard bargain with its purchaser, the price which he 
 exacted being four hundred guineas. Lady Bless- 
 ington adds the comment: "The poet is certainly 
 fond of money, and this growing passion displays 
 itself on many occasions." He bought her horse 
 Mameluke, of which she was very fond, and with 
 which she parted reluctantly, and only in compliance 
 with his repeated and urgent requests. Then, after 
 she had consented, he wrote saying that he could 
 not pay more than eighty pounds ; she had paid one 
 hundred guineas for the horse, and she would rather 
 have lost two hundred than part with him. Having 
 said this, she adds : " How strange, to beg and 
 entreat to have this horse resigned to him, and 
 then name a less price than he cost !" 
 
 The parting took place on June 2, and it was 
 keenly felt on both sides. Byron seemed to have a 
 conviction that the meeting was the last which he 
 would have with any of the party, and he was moved 
 
 did I see? The very thing that he has placed on record as 
 being the object of his hatred ' a fubsy woman.' She has now 
 neither youth, striking beauty, nor grace, and it is difficult to 
 believe that she ever could have been the great poet's ideal. She 
 is not tall and is ' thick-set,' devoid of air or style, and, whatever 
 she may have been, is no longer attractive. Her manners, too, 
 are neither high-bred nor gracious, and altogether her appearance 
 and bearing are most descnchantant. She sang several Italian airs 
 to her own accompaniment in a very pretentious manner, and her 
 voice is loud and somewhat harsh " (p. 45).
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON Ivii 
 
 to tears. Lady Blessington remarks, after stating 
 what had occurred : " Should his presentiment be 
 realized and we indeed meet no more, I shall never 
 cease to remember him with kindness : the very idea 
 that I shall not see him again overpowers me with 
 sadness and makes me forget many defects which 
 had often disenchanted me with him." 
 
 Before another June came round Lady Blessing- 
 ton wrote in her journal that the intelligence of 
 Byron's death had arrived, and she added: "Alas, 
 alas ! his presentiment of dying in Greece has been 
 but too well fulfilled, and I used to banter him on 
 his superstitious presentiment !" 
 
 The Blessingtons proceeded from Genoa to 
 Lucca, where they stayed a few days, thence to 
 Florence, where they stayed three weeks. From 
 Florence they journeyed to Rome, which they 
 reached on July 5, 1823, and left on the i4th, being 
 driven from it, as Lady Blessington records, " by 
 oppressive heat and the evil prophecies dinned into 
 my ears of the malaria." She adds : "I have no 
 fears of the effect of either for myself, but I dare not 
 risk them for others." This remark appears to be 
 wholly to the writer's advantage, but Mr. Madden 
 puts a complexion upon it which does not do her 
 credit. He affirms that Lady Blessington had be- 
 come very fastidious in her tastes ; that she did not 
 find in Rome the luxuries which had become neces- 
 saries of life to her ; that she objected to the
 
 Iviii MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 lodgings, and, above all, to the cookery there, and 
 that the abrupt departure from the ancient city was 
 occasioned by her whims and not by a regard for 
 the health of others. The passage which follows 
 serves to explain some things in her life and conduct 
 which would remain mysterious and mistaken with- 
 out the clue that it furnishes : " With the strongest 
 regard for Lady Blessington, and the fullest appre- 
 ciation of the many good qualities that belonged to 
 her, it cannot be denied that, whether discoursing in 
 her salons or talking with pen in hand on paper in 
 her journals, she occasionally aimed at something 
 like stage effects, acted in society and in her diaries, 
 and at times assumed opinions which she abandoned 
 a little later, or passed off appearances for realities. 
 This was done with the view of acquiring esteem, 
 strengthening her position in the opinion of persons 
 of exalted intellect or station, and directing attention 
 to the side of it that was brilliant and apparently 
 enviable, not for any unworthy purpose, but from a 
 desire to please, and perhaps from a feeling of un- 
 certainty in the possession of present advantages." 
 
 The Blessingtons stayed in Naples till February, 
 1828. On December 4, 1827,* Count D'Orsay had 
 
 * The date given in Madden's " Memoirs of the Countess of 
 Blessington" is December i, and this is repeated in the "Dictionary 
 of National Biography"; but the 4th is the day named in The 
 Annual Register for 1827, and as this entry appeared in the life- 
 time of all the parties concerned, without objection from any of 
 them, it may be accepted as accurate.
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON lix 
 
 become the husband of Lady Harriet Frances 
 Gardiner, the only legitimate daughter of the Earl 
 of Blessington. This marriage resembled that of 
 Marguerite Power to Captain Farmer at the im- 
 mature age of fourteen and a half. Lady Harriet 
 Gardiner was fifteen years and four months old, and 
 she was summoned to Naples and commanded to 
 become the wife of Count D'Orsay. The marriage 
 had been determined upon when the Blessingtons 
 were at Genoa. There is not a word extant to 
 show that Lady Blessington objected to the match, 
 and gave any heed to the feelings of her step- 
 daughter. Count D'Orsay profited by the union to 
 the extent of .40,000. Three years after the 
 mercenary bargain had been consummated, the ill- 
 matched pair separated, and the young wife escaped 
 from a state of misery. 
 
 The journey to Paris from Naples was made in as 
 leisurely a fashion as the journey from Paris to 
 Genoa. The latter city was twice revisited before 
 leaving Italy. On the first occasion Lady Blessing- 
 ton read several of Byron's letters and manuscripts 
 which were in Mr. Barry's possession. Every 
 object recalled the deceased poet to her mind, and 
 she could hardly think " that /ie, whose image is 
 identified with all I view, is sleeping in an English 
 grave." During the second visit she was walking one 
 day, when she saw a young girl whose features re- 
 called those of Byron ; an elderly lady accompanied
 
 Ix MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 her. She was informed that the latter was Lady 
 Byron, and the former was Ada. 
 
 Lady Blessington's journal of her trip through 
 France and her stay in Paris was published in 1841, 
 with the title of "The Idler in France." It contains 
 much that is of permanent interest, although the 
 greater part is antiquated and unattractive. Many 
 passages in which she notes the books that she 
 read, and her opinions upon them, serve to display 
 her own mind and tastes. The following passage is 
 curious : " I have been reading ' Vivian Grey,' a 
 very wild but a very clever book, full of genius in 
 its unpruned luxuriance : the writer revels in all the 
 riches of a brilliant imagination, and expends them 
 prodigally, dazzling at one moment by his passionate 
 eloquence, and at another by his touching pathos." 
 Sir Walter Scott had made this entry in his 
 " Journal " not long before : " Reading, among the 
 rest, an odd volume of ' Vivian Grey '; clever, but 
 not so much as to make me, in this sultry weather, 
 go upstairs to the drawing-room to seek the other 
 volumes." Neither knew the writer's name, as the 
 work was anonymous. Lady Blessington afterwards 
 made Benjamin Disraeli's acquaintance ; at present 
 she was greatly struck with his father, of whom she 
 wrote : " I never peruse a production of his without 
 longing to be personally acquainted with him ; and 
 though we never met, I entertain a regard and 
 respect for him, induced by the many pleasant hours 
 his works have afforded me."
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUXTESS OF BLESSINGTON Ixi 
 
 The impression made upon her by the first novel 
 of Bulwer was as strong and favourable as that 
 which was made by the first novel of Disraeli ; 
 moreover, her statement shows that Bulwer had been 
 a favourite in Paris from the outset : " ' Pelham ' is 
 a new style of novel. . . . The writer possesses a 
 felicitous fluency of language, profound and just 
 thoughts, and a knowledge of the world rarely 
 acquired at his age ; for I am told he is a very 
 young man. ... I, who don't like reading novels, 
 heard so much in favour of this one for all Paris 
 talk of it that I broke through a resolution to read 
 no more, and I am glad I did so, for this clever 
 book has greatly interested me." 
 
 When " Devereux " appeared, she liked it better 
 than "Pelham," and wrote of the author that "his 
 novels produced a totally different effect on one 
 from that exercised by the works of other authors : 
 they amuse less than they make one think." She 
 had a good taste in poetry as well as in novels, and 
 her appreciation of the poets she loved does her 
 credit. She writes : " I have been reading Words- 
 worth's poems again, and I verily believe for the 
 fiftieth time. They contain a mine of lofty, beau- 
 tiful and natural thoughts. I never peruse them 
 without feeling proud that England has such a 
 poet, and without finding a love for the pure and 
 noble increased in my mind." Her remarks on 
 Shelley are still more noteworthy. When she 
 penned them the admirers of Shelley were in the
 
 Ixii MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 minority, Byron being the first favourite, whereas 
 the reverse is true now : "I have been reading 
 Shelley's works, in which I have found many 
 beautiful thoughts. This man of genius for de- 
 cidedly such he was has not yet been rendered 
 justice to. ... He who was all charity has found 
 none in the judgment pronounced on him by his 
 contemporaries ; but posterity will be more just." 
 
 She admired the poetesses as well as the poets 
 of her day, some of whom have not received from 
 posterity the homage with which contemporaries 
 honoured them. " Well may England," she exclaims, 
 " be proud of such poetesses as she can now boast ! 
 Johanna Baillie, the noble-minded and elevated ; 
 Miss Bowles, the pure and true; Miss Mitford, the 
 gifted and natural ; and Mrs. Hemans and Miss 
 Landon, though last not least in the galaxy of 
 genius, with imaginations as brilliant as their hearts 
 are generous and tender." Theodore Hook was as 
 popular in his day as any of the female bards whose 
 names and praises have just been set forth, and 
 Lady Blessington was one of his admirers. After 
 finishing his book styled " Sayings and Doings," 
 she writes of it that "every page teems with wit, 
 humour, or pathos, and reveals a knowledge of the 
 world under all the various phases of the ever-moving 
 scene that gives a lively interest to all he writes." 
 
 Captain Marryat is another name which was 
 greater in her day than in ours, though it is still
 
 MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON Ixiii 
 
 remembered in connexion with one or two capital 
 novels. Her remarks about him are very acute, 
 and they show that she possessed critical discrimi- 
 nation. Having stated that his "Naval Officer" 
 resembles himself in being full of talent, originality 
 and humour, she adds : " He is an accurate observer 
 of life ; nothing escapes him ; yet there is no bitter- 
 ness in his satire and no exaggeration in his comic 
 vein. He is never obliged to explain to his readers 
 why the characters he introduces act in such and 
 such a manner. They always bear out the parts he 
 wishes them to enact, and the whole story goes 
 on so naturally that one feels as if reading a narra- 
 tive of facts, instead of a work of fiction." 
 
 In the wide circle of Lady Blessington's acquaint- 
 ance there were many French as well as English 
 statesmen who had achieved or were on the high 
 road to greatness. Two Englishmen who even- 
 tually attained the first place in the hearts of their 
 countrymen are admirably sketched by her in 1829, 
 when they were still in blossom. Lord John 
 Russell was one of them. She pronounces him 
 very agreeable when the reserve which veils his 
 many fine qualities wears off. She holds that few 
 men had a finer taste in literature than he ; more- 
 over, Lord John Russell is said by her to be "pre- 
 cisely the person calculated to fill a high official 
 situation. Well informed on all subjects, with an 
 ardent love of his country, and an anxious desire
 
 Ixiv MEMOIR OF THE COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 to serve it, he has a sobriety of judgment and 
 strictness of principle that will for ever place him 
 beyond the reach of suspicion, even to the most 
 prejudiced of his political adversaries." 
 
 The other Englishman whom she sketches is 
 Lord Palmerston, and in his case, as in that of him 
 who died Earl Russell, her forecast was amply con- 
 firmed. After saying that she found him as intelli- 
 gent, sensible and agreeable as he was when she 
 knew him in England seven years before, she adds : 
 " Lord Palmerston has much more ability than 
 people are disposed to give him credit for. He is, 
 or used to be, when I lived in England, considered 
 a good man of business, acute in the details, and 
 quick in the comprehension of complicated ques- 
 tions. Even this is no mean praise, but I think 
 him entitled to more ; for, though constantly and 
 busily occupied with official duties, he has contrived 
 to find time to read everything worth reading, and 
 to make himself acquainted with the politics of 
 other countries. Lively, well-bred and unaffected, 
 Lord Palmerston is a man that is so well acquainted 
 with the routine of official duties, performs them 
 so readily and pleasantly, and is so free from the 
 assumption of self-importance that too frequently 
 appertains to adepts in them, that, whether Whig 
 or Tory Government has the ascendant in England, 
 his services will be always considered a desideratum 
 to be secured if possible."
 
 London. Richard B9n.Uey& So
 
 A 
 
 JOURNAL 
 
 OF THE 
 
 CONVERSATIONS OF LORD BYRON 
 
 WITH THE 
 
 COUNTESS OF BLESSINGTON 
 
 ' ' Wo du das Genie erblickst 
 Krblickst du auch zugleich die Marterkrone." 
 
 GOETHE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 First meeting of Lady Blessington and Lord Byron Personal 
 appearance of Lord Byron His lameness The Casa 
 Saluz/i at Albaro Mutual friends Tom Moore Ellice 
 " Lalla Rookh " " When first I met thee ''Irish wit At 
 Genoa Lord Holland Rogers Lady Holland and the 
 Edinburgh Review Galignani's Messenger The Hon. 
 William Hill Selfishness and generosity The " Improving 
 Society" Douglas Kinnaird Horse-dealing The expedi- 
 tion to Greece Lady Byron The Hon. Augusta Byron 
 Byron's conversation. 
 
 Genoa, April ist, 1823. 
 
 SAW Lord Byron for the first time. The im- 
 pression of the first few minutes disappointed 
 me, as I had, both from the portraits and 
 
 i
 
 2 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 descriptions given, conceived a different 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 imagina- 
 tion. 
 
 His appearance is, however, highly prepossess- 
 ing ; his head is finely shaped, and the forehead 
 open, high, and noble ; his eyes are gray 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 descend- 
 ing ; 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 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
 
 PERSONAL APPEARANCE OF LORD BYROX 3 
 
 getting rapidly gray) 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 
 impression. I should say that melancholy was 
 its prevailing character, as I noticed that when 
 any observation elicited a smile and they were 
 many, as the conversation was gay and playful 
 it appeared to linger but for a moment on his 
 lip, which instantly resumed its former expression 
 of seriousness. His whole appearance is remark- 
 ably gentlemanlike, and he owes nothing ot 
 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 a gauchene in his movements, which 
 evidently proceeds from the perpetual conscious- 
 ness of his lameness, that appears to haunt him ; 
 for he tries to conceal his foot when seated, and 
 when walking 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
 
 4 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 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, resembling those mysterious 
 personages he so loves to paint in his works, and 
 with whom he has been so often identified by 
 the good-natured world : 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-possession and dignity which ought to 
 characterise a man of birth and education. 
 
 Albaro, the village in which the Casa Saluzzi, 
 where he lives, is situated, is about a mile and a 
 half distant from Genoa ; it is a fine old palazzo, 
 commanding an extensive view, and with spacious 
 apartments, the front looking into a courtyard, 
 and the back into the garden. The room in 
 which Lord Byron received us was large, and 
 plainly furnished. A small portrait of his daughter 
 Ada, with an engraved portrait of himself, taken 
 from one of his works, struck my eye. Observing 
 that I remarked that of his daughter, he took it 
 down, and seemed much gratified when I dis- 
 covered the strong resemblance it bore to him. 
 Whilst holding it in his hand, he said : " I am 
 told she is clever I hope not; and, above all, I
 
 MUTUAL FRIENDS 
 
 hope she is not poetical. The price paid for 
 such advantages, if advantages they be, is such 
 as to make me pray that my child may escape 
 them." 
 
 The conversation during our first interview 
 was chiefly about our mutual English friends, 
 some of whom he spoke of with kind interest. 
 Tom Moore, Douglas Kinnaird, and Mr. Ellice 
 were among those whom he most distinguished.* 
 He expressed himself greatly annoyed by the 
 number of travelling English who pestered him 
 with visits, the greater part of whom he had 
 never known, or was but slightly acquainted with, 
 which obliged him to refuse receiving any but 
 those he particularly wished to see. " But," added 
 he, smiling, " they avenge themselves by attacking 
 me in every sort of way, and there is no story 
 too improbable for the craving appetites of our 
 slander-loving countrymen." 
 
 * Thomas Moore, born May 28th, 1779 ; died February 25th, . 
 1852. The Hon. Douglas Kinnaird (born February 28th, 1788: 
 died March i2th, 1830) was the fifth son of the seventh Baron 
 Kinnaird. He was a member of the sub-committee for directing 
 Drury Lane Theatre; he sat in Parliament for a short time ; he 
 adapted Tom Fletcher's comedy, "The Merchant of Bruges," 
 which was put on the stage of Drury Lane, and he wrote articles 
 relating to India. The Right Hon. Edward Ellice (born 1791 ; 
 died September loth, 1863) was for many years member for 
 Coventry ; he was, first, Secretary to the Treasury, and, second, 
 Secretary at War in Earl Grey's administration ; he was Chairman 
 of the Hudson Bay Company and the founder of the Reform 
 Club.
 
 6 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 Before taking leave, he proposed paying us a 
 visit next day, and he handed me into the carriage 
 with many flattering expressions of the pleasure 
 our visit had procured him. 
 
 April 2nd. We had scarcely finished our dejeuner 
 a la fourchette this day when Lord Byron was 
 announced ; he sent up two printed cards in an 
 envelope addressed to us, and soon followed them. 
 He appeared still more gay and cheerful than the 
 day before made various inquiries about all our 
 mutual friends in England spoke of them with 
 affectionate interest, mixed with a badinage in 
 which none of their little defects were spared ; 
 indeed, candour obliges me to own that their 
 defects seemed to have made a deeper impression 
 on his mind than their good qualities (though he 
 allowed all the latter), by the gusto with which 
 he entered into them. 
 
 He talked of our mutual friend Moore, and 
 of his " Lalla Rookh," which he said, though very 
 beautiful, had disappointed him, adding, that 
 Moore would go down to posterity by his 
 melodies, which were all perfect. He said that 
 he had never been so much affected as on hearing 
 Moore sing some of them, particularly " When 
 first I met Thee," ;: which, he said, made him 
 
 * The following are the first and last of the four stanzas which 
 compose the poem :
 
 " WHEN FIRST I MET THEE ;; 
 
 shed tears ; " but," added he, with a look full 
 of archness, " it was after 1 had drunk a certain 
 portion of very potent white brandy." As he 
 laid a peculiar stress on the word affected, I 
 smiled, and the sequel of the white brandy made 
 me smile again ; he asked me the cause, and I 
 answered that his observation reminded me of 
 the story of a lady offering her condolence to a 
 poor Irishwoman on the death of her child, who 
 
 " When first I met thee, warm and young, 
 There shone such truth about thee, 
 And on thy lip such promise hung, 
 I did not dare to doubt thee. 
 I saw thee change, yet still relied, 
 Still clung with hope the fonder, 
 And thought, though false to all beside, 
 From me thou couldst not wander. 
 
 But go, deceiver, go, 
 
 The heart whose hopes could make it 
 
 Trust one so false, so low, 
 
 Deserves that thou shouldst break it. 
 ***** 
 
 " And days may come, thou false one ! yet, 
 When even those ties shall sever ; 
 When thou wilt call, with vain regret, 
 On her thou'st lost for ever ; 
 On her who, in thy fortune's fall, 
 With smiles had still received thee, 
 And gladly died to prove thee all 
 Her fancy first believed thee. 
 Go go 'tis vain to curse, 
 'Tis weakness to upbraid thee ; 
 Hate cannot wish thee worse 
 Than guilt and shame have made thee. :>
 
 8 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 stated that she had never been more affected than 
 on the event. The poor woman, knowing the 
 hollowness of the compliment, answered, with 
 all the quickness of her country, " Sure, then, 
 ma'am, that is saying a great deal, for you were 
 always affected." Lord Byron laughed, and said 
 my apropos was very wicked ; but I maintained 
 it was very just. He spoke much more warmly 
 of Moore's social attractions as a companion, 
 which he said were unrivalled, than of his merits 
 as a poet. 
 
 He offered to be our cicerone in pointing out 
 all the pretty drives and rides about Genoa; 
 recommended riding as the only means of seeing 
 the country, many of the fine points of view 
 being inaccessible, except on horseback ; and he 
 praised Genoa on account of the rare advantage 
 it possessed of having so few English, either as 
 inhabitants or birds of passage. 
 
 I was this day again struck by the flippancy 
 of his manner of talking of persons for whom I 
 know he expresses, nay, for whom I believe he 
 feels a regard. Something of this must have 
 shown itself in my manner, for he laughingly 
 observed that he was afraid he should lose my 
 good opinion by his frankness ; but that when 
 the fit was on him he could not help saying what 
 he thought, though he often repented it when 
 too late.
 
 LORD HOLLAND 
 
 He spoke of Mr. , from whom he had 
 
 received a visit the day before, praised his looks, 
 and the insinuating gentleness of his manners,, 
 which, he observed, lent a peculiar charm to the 
 little tales he repeated. He said that he had 
 given him more London scandal than he had 
 heard since he left England ; observed that he 
 had quite talent enough to render his malice 
 very piquant and amusing, and that his imitations 
 were admirable. " How can his mother do 
 without him ?" said Byron ; " with his espieglerie 
 and malice he must be an invaluable coadjutor ; 
 and Venus without Cupid could not be more 
 delaissee than Milady without this Il- 
 legitimate son." 
 
 He said that he had formerly felt very partial 
 to Mr. - - ; his face was so handsome, and his 
 countenance so ingenuous, that it was impossible 
 not to be prepossessed in his favour ; added to 
 which, one hoped that the son of such a father 
 could never entirely degenerate. " He has, how- 
 ever, degenerated sadly," said Byron, " but as he 
 is yet young he may improve ; though, to see a 
 person of his age and sex so devoted to gossip 
 and scandal, is rather discouraging to those who 
 are interested in his welfare." 
 
 He talked of Lord Holland ; praised his 
 urbanity, his talents, and acquirements ; but 
 above all, his sweetness of temper and good-
 
 io CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 nature. " Indeed, I do love Lord Holland," said 
 Byron, " though the pity I feel for his domestic 
 thraldom has something in it akin to contempt. 
 Poor dear man ! he is sadly bullied by Milady ; 
 and, what is worst of all, half her tyranny is used 
 on the plea of kindness and taking care of his 
 health. Hang such kindness! say I. 
 
 " She is certainly the most imperious, dictatorial 
 person I know is always en re me ; which, by 
 the by, in her peculiar position, shows tact, for 
 she suspects that were she to quit the throne she 
 might be driven to the antechamber ; however, 
 with all her faults, she is not vindictive as a 
 proof, she never extended her favour to me until 
 after the little episode respecting her in * English 
 Bards ;' nay more, I suspect I owe her friendship 
 to it. Rogers persuaded me to suppress the 
 passage in the other editions.* After all, Lady 
 
 * " Dunedin ! view thy children with delight, 
 
 They write for food and feed because they write ; 
 And lest when heated with unusual grape, 
 Some glowing thoughts should to the press escape, 
 And tinge with red the female reader's cheek, 
 My lady skims the cream of each critique ; 
 Breathes o'er the page her purity of soul, 
 Reforms each error, and refines the whole." 
 
 English Bards and Scotch Reviewers. 
 
 In a footnote to this passage Byron states on what he calls " good 
 authority " that the manuscripts of contributions to the Edinburgh 
 Review were submitted to Lady Holland for perusal; he adds, 
 " no doubt, for correction." No doubt exists about the assertion 
 being as false as it is absurd.
 
 LADY HOLLAND 
 
 Holland has one merit, and a great one in my 
 eyes, which is, that in this age of cant and 
 humbug, and in a country I mean our own 
 dear England where the cant of Virtue is the 
 order of the day, she has contrived, without any 
 great resemblance of it, merely by force of shall 
 I call it impudence or courage ? not only to get 
 herself into society, but absolutely to give the 
 law to her own circle. She passes, also, for being 
 clever ; this, perhaps owing to my dulness, I 
 never discovered, except that she has a way, en 
 reine, of asking questions that show some reading. 
 The first dispute I ever had with Lady Byron 
 was caused by my urging her to visit Lady 
 Holland ; and, what is odd enough," laughing 
 with bitterness, " our first and last differences 
 were caused by two very worthless women." 
 
 Observing that we appeared surprised at the 
 extraordinary frankness, to call it by no harsher 
 name, with which he talked of his ci-devant 
 friends, he added : " Don't think the worse of 
 me for what I have said : the truth is, I have 
 witnessed such gross selfishness and want of feel- 
 ing in Lady Holland, that I cannot resist speaking 
 my sentiments of her." I observed : " But are 
 you not afraid she will hear what you say of 
 her ?" He answered : " Were she to hear it, 
 she would act the aimable^ as she always does to 
 those who attack her ; while to those who are
 
 12 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 attentive, and court her, she is insolent beyond 
 bearing." 
 
 Having sat with us above two hours, and 
 expressed his wishes that we might prolong our 
 stay at Genoa, he promised to dine with us the 
 following Thursday, and took his leave, laugh- 
 ingly apologizing for the length of his visit, 
 adding, that he was such a recluse, and had 
 lived so long out of the world, that he had quite 
 forgotten the usages of it. 
 
 He on all occasions professes a detestation of 
 what he calls cant ; says it will banish from Eng- 
 land all that is pure and good ; and that while 
 people are looking after the shadow, they lose 
 the substance of goodness ; he says, that the best 
 mode left for conquering it, is to expose it to 
 ridicule^ the only weapon, added he, that the Eng- 
 lish climate cannot rust. He appears to know 
 everything that is going on in England ; takes a 
 great interest in the London gossip ; and while 
 professing to read no new publications, betrays, 
 in various ways, a perfect knowledge of every 
 new work. 
 
 " April 2nd, 1823. 
 " MY DEAR LORD, 
 
 " I send you to-day's (the latest) Galignani's [Messenger]. 
 My banker tells me, however, that his letters from Spain state that 
 two regiments have revolted, which is a great vex, as they say in 
 Ireland. I shall be very glad to see your friend's journal. He 
 seems to have all the qualities requisite to have figured in his 
 brother-in-law's ancestor's Memoirs. I did not think him old
 
 BYRON AND THE PLUM-PUDDING 
 
 enough to have served in Spain, and must have expressed myself 
 badly. On the contrary, he has all the air of a Cupidon dcchainc, 
 and promises to have it for some time to come. I beg to present 
 my respects to Lady Blessington, and ever am, 
 
 " Your obliged and faithful servant, 
 
 "NOEL BYRON.'" 
 
 When Lord Byron came to dine with us on 
 Thursday, he arrived an hour before the usual 
 time, and appeared in good spirits. He said that 
 he found the passages and stairs filled with people, 
 who stared at him very much ; but he did not 
 seem vexed at this homage, for so it certainly 
 was meant, as the Albergo della Villa, where we 
 resided, being filled with English, all were curious 
 to see their distinguished countryman. He was 
 very gay at dinner, ate of most of the dishes, 
 expressed pleasure at partaking of a plum pud- 
 ding, a r Anglaise, made by one of our English 
 servants ; was helped twice, and observed, that he 
 hoped he should not shock us by eating so much : 
 " But," added he, " the truth is, that for several 
 months I have been following a most abstemious 
 regime, living almost entirely on vegetables ; and 
 now that I see a good dinner, I cannot resist 
 temptation, though to-morrow I shall suffer for 
 my gourmandize, as I always do when I indulge 
 in luxuries." He drank a few glasses of cham- 
 pagne, saying, that as he considered it a jour de 
 fete, he would eat, drink, and be merry. 
 
 He talked of Mr. Hill, who was then our
 
 14 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 Minister at Genoa.* " Hill," said he, " is a 
 thorough good - natured and hospitable man, 
 keeps an excellent table, and is as fond of good 
 things as I am, but has not my forbearance. I 
 received, some time ago, a pate de Perigord, and 
 finding it excellent, I determined on sharing it 
 with Hill ; but here my natural selfishness 
 suggested that it would be wiser for me, who 
 had so few dainties, to keep this for myself, than 
 to give it to Hill, who had so many. After half 
 an hour's debate between selfishness and gene- 
 rosity, which do you think " (turning to me) 
 " carried the point ?" I answered, " Generosity, 
 of course." " No, by Jove !" said he, " no such 
 thing ; selfishness in this case, as in most others, 
 triumphed : I sent the pate to my friend Hill, 
 because I felt another dinner off it would play the 
 deuce with me ; and so you see, after all, he 
 owed the pate more to selfishness than gene- 
 rosity." Seeing us smile at this, he said : 
 " When you know me better, you will find that 
 I am the most selfish person in the world ; I 
 have, however, the merit, if it be one, of not 
 only being perfectly conscious of my faults, but 
 of never denying them ; and this surely is some- 
 thing in this age of cant and hypocrisy." 
 
 ;: This is inaccurate. Genoa was ceded to Sardinia in 1815, 
 and at the time Lady Blessington wrote her journal, the Hon. 
 William Hill was Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipoten- 
 tiary from the Court of St. James's to that of Turin.
 
 THE IMPROVING SOCIETY 15 
 
 The journal to which Lord Byron refers was 
 written by one of our party,* and Lord Byron, 
 having discovered its existence, and expressed a 
 desire to peruse it, the writer confided it to 
 him. 
 
 " April 1 4th, 1823. 
 " MY DEAR LORD, 
 
 " I was not in the way when your note came. I have 
 only time to thank you, and to send the Galignanis. My face is 
 better in fact, but worse in appearance, with a very scurvy aspect ; 
 but I expect it to be well in a day or two. I will subscribe to the 
 Improving Society."r 
 
 " Yours in haste, but ever, 
 
 " NOEL BYRON." 
 
 " April 22nd, 1823. 
 " MILOR, 
 
 " I received your billet at dinner, which was a good one 
 with a sprinkling of female foreigners, who, I dare say, were very 
 agreeable. As I have formed a sullen resolution about presenta- 
 tions, which I never break (above once a month), I begged 
 
 to dispense me from being introduced, and intrigued for myself a 
 place as far remote as possible from his fair guests, and very near 
 a bottle of the best wine to confirm my misogyny. After coffee 
 I had accomplished my retreat as far as the hall, on full tilt 
 towards your the, which I was very eager to partake of, when I 
 was arrested by requesting that I would make my bow to 
 the French Ambassadress, who it seems is a Dillon, Irish, but 
 born or bred in America ; has been pretty, and is a blue, and of 
 course entitled to the homage of all persons who have been 
 printed. I returned, and it was then too late to detain Miss 
 
 * Count Alfred D'Orsay. 
 
 t Probably the Reading Association or Book Club referred to 
 in the subsequent letter to Lord Blessington, dated May i4th, 
 1823.
 
 16 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 Power over the tea-urn. I beg you to accept my regrets, and 
 present my regards to Milady, and Miss Power, and Cornte 
 Alfred, and believe me, 
 
 " Ever yours, 
 
 "NOEL BYRON." 
 
 "April 23rd, 1823. 
 
 "Mv DEAR LORD, 
 
 " I thank you for quizzing me and my ' learned Thebans.' 
 I assure you, my notions on that score are limited to getting 
 away with a whole skin, or sleeping quietly with a broken one, in 
 some of my old Glens where I used to -dream in my former 
 excursions. I should prefer a gray Greek stone over me to West- 
 minster Abbey ; but I doubt if I shall have the luck to die so 
 happily. A lease of my ' body's length ' is all the land which I 
 should covet in that quarter. 
 
 "What the Honourable Dug [Douglas Kinnaird] and his Com- 
 mittee may decide, I do not know, and still less what I may 
 decide (for I am not famous for decision) for myself; but if I 
 could do any good in any way, I should be happy to contribute 
 thereto, and without eclat. I have seen enough of that in my 
 time, to rate it at its value. I wish you were upon that Committee, 
 for I think you would set them going one way or the other ; at 
 present they seem a little dormant. I dare not venture to dine 
 with you to-morrow, nor indeed any day this week ; for three days 
 of dinners during the last seven days have made me so head- 
 achy and sulky that it will take me a whole Lent to subside again 
 into anything like independence of sensation from the pressure of 
 materialism. . . . But I shall take my chance of finding you the 
 first fair morning for a visit. 
 
 " Ever yours, 
 
 "NOEL BYRON." 
 
 "May yth, 1823. 
 "Mv DEAR LORD, 
 
 " I return the poesy, which will form a new light to lighten 
 the Irish, and will, I hope, be duly appreciated by the public. I 
 have not returned MiladVs verses, because I am not aware of the
 
 HORSE-DEALING 17 
 
 error she mentions, and see no reason for the alteration ; however, 
 if she insists, I must be conformable. I write in haste, having a 
 visitor. 
 
 " Ever yours, very truly, 
 
 "NOEL BYRON." 
 
 " May i4th, 1823. 
 " MY DEAR LORD, 
 
 " I avize you that the Reading Association have received 
 numbers of English publications, which you may like to see, and 
 as you are a member should avail yourself of early. I have just 
 returned my share before its time, having kept the books one day 
 instead of five, which latter is the utmost allowance. The rules 
 obliged me to forward it to a Monsieur G , as next in rota- 
 tion. If you have anything for England, a gentleman with some 
 law papers of mine returns there to-morrow (Thursday), and would 
 be happy to convey anything for you. 
 
 " Ever yours, and truly, 
 
 " NOEL BYRON. 
 
 " P.S. I request you to present my compliments to Lady 
 Blessington, Miss Power, and Comte D'Orsay." 
 
 " May 23rd, 1823. 
 " MY DEAR LORD, 
 
 " I thought that I had answered your note. I ought, and 
 beg you to excuse the omission. I should have called, but I . 
 thought my chance of finding you at home in the environs greater 
 than at the hotel. ... I hope you will not take my not dining 
 with you again after so many dinners ill ; but the truth is, that 
 your banquets are too luxurious for my habits, and I feel the 
 effect of them in this warm weather for some time after. I am 
 sure you will not be angry, since I have already more than 
 sufficiently abused your hospitality. ... I fear that I can hardly 
 afford more than two thousand francs for the steed in question,* 
 
 * Lady Blessington's horse Mameluke, for which 100 guineas 
 had been paid. Byron's offer was ^80. 
 
 2
 
 i8 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 as I have to undergo considerable expenses at this present time, 
 and I suppose that will not suit you. I must not forget to pay 
 my Irish subscription. My remembrances to Miladi, and to 
 Alfred, and to Miss Power. 
 
 " Ever yours, 
 
 "NOEL BYRON." 
 
 "May 24th, 1823. 
 " MY DEAR LORD, 
 
 "I find that I was elected a member of the Greek Com- 
 mittee in March, but did not receive the chairman's notice till 
 yesterday, and this by mere chance, and through a private hand. 
 I am doing all I can to get away, and the Committee and my 
 friends in England seem both to approve of my going up into 
 Greece ; but I meet here with obstacles, which have hampered 
 and put me out of spirits, and still keep me in a vexatious state 
 of uncertainty. I began bathing the other day, but the water 
 was still chilly, and in diving for a Genoese lira in clear but deep 
 water, I imbibed so much water through my ears as gave me a 
 megrim in my head, which you will probably think a superfluous 
 
 malady. 
 
 " Ever yours, obliged and truly, 
 
 "NOEL BYRON." 
 
 Tn all his conversations relative to Lady Byron, 
 and they are frequent, he declares that he is 
 totally unconscious of the cause of her leaving 
 him, but suspects that the ill-natured interposi- 
 tion of Mrs. Charlemont led to it.* It is a 
 strange business ! He declares that he left no 
 means untried to effect a reconciliation, and 
 
 * Lady Byron's remarks on this matter are to be found at 
 page 275 of the sixth volume of Moore's " Life of Byron," the 
 edition being that which appeared in 1832.
 
 LADY BYRON 19 
 
 always adds with bitterness, " 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 !" All who wish well to 
 Lady Byron must desire that she should not 
 survive her husband, for the all-atoning grave, 
 that gives oblivion to the errors of the dead, 
 clothes those of the living in such sombre colours 
 to their own too-late awakened feelings, as to 
 render them wretched for life, and more than 
 avenges the real or imagined wrongs of those we 
 have lost for ever. 
 
 When Lord Byron was praising the mental 
 and personal qualifications of Lady Byron, I 
 asked him how all that he now said agreed with 
 certain sarcasms supposed to bear a reference to 
 her, in his works. He smiled, shook his head, 
 and said they were meant to spite and vex her, 
 when he was wounded and irritated at her re- 
 fusing to receive or answer his letters; that he 
 was not sincere in his implied censures, and that 
 he was sorry he had written them ; but notwith- 
 standing this regret, and all his good resolutions 
 to avoid similar sins, he might on renewed pro- 
 vocation recur to the same vengeance, though he 
 allowed it was petty and unworthy of him. Lord 
 Byron speaks of his sister, Mrs. Leigh, constantly, 
 and always with strong expressions ot affection ; 
 he says she is the most faultless person he ever
 
 20 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 knew, and that she was his only source of con- 
 solation in his troubles on the separation.* 
 
 Byron is a great talker ; his flippancy ceases in 
 a tete-a-tete, and he becomes sententious, abandon- 
 ing himself to the subject, and seeming to think 
 aloud, though his language has the appearance 
 of stiffness, and is quite opposed to the trifling 
 chit-chat that he enters into when in general 
 society. I attribute this to his having lived so 
 much alone, as also to the desire he now pro- 
 fesses of applying himself to prose writing. He 
 affects a sort of Johnsonian tone, likes very much 
 to be listened to, and seems to observe the effect 
 he produces on his hearer. In mixed society his 
 ambition is to appear the man of fashion ; he 
 adopts a light tone of badinage and persiflage that 
 does not sit gracefully on him, but is always 
 anxious to turn the subject to his own personal 
 affairs, or feelings, which are either lamented 
 with an air of melancholy, or dwelt on with 
 playful ridicule, according to the humour he 
 happens to be in. 
 
 * The Hon. Augusta Byron, daughter of Byron's father by his 
 marriage with Baroness Conyers, who became the wife of Colonel 
 Leigh in 1807.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Colonel Montgomery Letter from Byron to Lady Blessington 
 Lady Byron's portrait Byron's wishes regarding his daughter 
 Literary women Madame de Stael Her brilliant con- 
 versation A solecism Epigrams - Literary reputation 
 Napoleon His " persecution " of Madame de Stael 
 " Corinne " A lecture on morals Byron's misjudgment of 
 himself His love of gossip Madame Benzoni The Duke 
 of Leeds Byron's superstitious nature Shelley's belief in 
 ghosts Byron's indifference to works of art His suspicion 
 " Sacred should the stream of sorrow flow.'' 
 
 A FRIEND of ours, Colonel Montgomery, having 
 arrived at Genoa, spent much of his time with 
 us. Lord Byron soon discovered this, and be- 
 came shy, embarrassed in his manner, and out of 
 humour. The first time I had an opportunity of 
 speaking to him without witnesses was on the 
 road to Nervi, on horseback, when he asked me 
 if I had not observed a great change in him. I 
 allowed that I had, and asked him the cause ; 
 and he told me, that knowing Colonel Mont- 
 gomery to be a friend of Lady Byron's, and 
 believing him to be an enemy of his, he expected 
 that he would endeavour to influence us against 
 him, and finally succeed in depriving him of our
 
 22 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 friendship ; and that this was the cause of his 
 altered manner. I endeavoured to convince him, 
 and at length succeeded, that Colonel Mont- 
 gomery was too good and honourable a man to 
 do anything spiteful or ill-natured, and that he 
 never spoke ill of him ; which seemed to gratify 
 him. He told me that Colonel Montgomery's 
 sister was the intimate and confidential friend of 
 Lady Byron, and that through this channel I 
 might be of great use to him, if I would use my 
 influence with Colonel Montgomery, to make 
 his sister write to Lady Byron for a copy of her 
 portrait, which he had long been most anxious 
 to possess. Colonel Montgomery, after much 
 entreaty, consented to write to his sister on the 
 subject, but on the express condition that Lord 
 Byron should specify on paper his exact wishes ; 
 and I wrote to Lord Byron to this effect, to 
 which letter I received the following answer. I 
 ought to add, that in conversation I told Lord 
 Byron that it was reported that Lady Byron was 
 in delicate health, and also that it was said she 
 was apprehensive that he intended to claim his 
 daughter, or to interfere in her education : he 
 refers to this in the letter which I copy : 
 
 "May 3 rd, 1823. 
 " DEAR LADY BLESSINGTON, 
 
 " My request would be for a copy of the miniature of 
 Lady Byron which I have seen in possession of the late Lady 
 Noel, as I have no picture, or indeed memorial of any kind, of
 
 MADAME DE STAEL 
 
 Lady Byron, as all her letters were in my own possession before 
 I left England, and we have had no correspondence since at 
 least, on her part. My message with regard to the infant is 
 simply to this effect : That in the event of any accident occurring 
 to the mother, and my remaining the survivor, it would be my 
 wish to have her plans carried into effect, both with regard to the 
 education of the child, and the person or persons under whose 
 care Lady Byron might be desirous that she should be placed. 
 It is not my intention to interfere with her on the subject during 
 her life ; and I would presume it would be some consolation to 
 her to know (if she is in ill-health, as I am given to understand) 
 that in no case would anything be done, as far as I am concerned, 
 but in strict conformity with Lady Byron's own wishes and inten- 
 tions left in whatever manner she thought proper. 
 
 " Believe me, dear Lady Blessington, 
 
 " Your obliged, etc." 
 
 Talking of literary women, Lord Byron said 
 that Madame de Stael was certainly the cleverest, 
 though not the most agreeable woman he had 
 ever known. " She declaimed to you instead of 
 conversing with you," said he, " never pausing 
 except to take breath ; and if during that interval 
 a rejoinder was put in, it was evident that she 
 did not attend to it, as she resumed the thread 
 of her discourse as though it had not been 
 interrupted." 
 
 This remark from Byron was amusing enough, 
 as we had all made nearly the same observation 
 on him, with the exception that he listened to, 
 and noticed, any answer made to his reflections. 
 "Madame de Stael," continued Byron, "was 
 very eloquent when her imagination warmed,
 
 24 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 (and a very little excited it) ; her powers of ima- 
 gination were much stronger than her reasoning 
 ones, perhaps owing to their being much more 
 frequently exercised ; her language was recon- 
 dite, but redundant ; and though always flowery, 
 and often brilliant, there was an obscurity that 
 left the impression that she did not perfectly 
 understand what she endeavoured to render in- 
 telligible to others. She constantly lost her- 
 self in philosophical disquisition, and once she 
 got entangled in the mazes of the labyrinth of 
 metaphysics, she had no clue by which she 
 could guide her path the imagination that led 
 her into her difficulties could not get her out 
 of them ; the want of a mathematical education, 
 which might have served as a ballast to steady 
 and help her into the port of reason, was always 
 visible, and though she had great tact in conceal- 
 ing her defeat, and covering a retreat, a tolerable 
 logician must have always discovered the scrapes 
 she got into. 
 
 " Poor dear Madame de Stael ! I shall never 
 forget seeing her one day, at table with a large 
 party, when the busk (I believe you ladies call 
 it) of her corset forced its way through the top 
 of the corset, and would not descend though 
 pushed by all the force of both hands of the 
 wearer, who became crimson from the operation. 
 After fruitless efforts, she turned in despair to the
 
 EPIGRAMS 
 
 valet de chambre behind her chair, and requested 
 him to draw it out, which could only be done 
 by his passing his hand from behind over her 
 shoulder, and across her chest, when, with a 
 desperate effort, he unsheathed the busk. Had 
 you seen the faces of some of the English ladies 
 of the party, you would have been like me, 
 almost convulsed ; while Madame remained per- 
 fectly unconscious that she had committed any 
 solecism on la decence Anglaise. Poor Madame 
 de Stael verified the truth of the lines 
 
 " ' Qui de son sexe n'a pas Fesprit, 
 De son sexe a tout le malheur.' 
 
 She thought like a man, but, alas ! she felt like a 
 woman ; as witness the episode in her life with 
 Monsieur Rocca, which she dared not avow 
 (I mean her marriage with him), because she 
 was more jealous of her reputation as a writer 
 than a woman, and the faiblesse de cceur y this 
 alliance proved she had not courage to ajfiche. 
 A friend of hers, and a compatriot into the 
 bargain, whom she believed to be one of the 
 most adoring of her worshippers, gave me the 
 following epigrams : 
 
 " ' SUR LA GROSSESSE DE MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 ' ' Quel esprit ! quel talent ! quel sublime genie ! 
 En elle tout aspire a I'immortalite ; 
 Et jusqu'a son hydropisie, 
 Rien n'est perdu pour la posterite.'
 
 26 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 " * PORTRAIT DE MADAME DE STAEL. 
 
 ' ' Armande a pour esprit des momens de delire, 
 Armande a pour vertu le mepris des appas : 
 Elle craint la railleur que sans cesse elle inspire, 
 Elle evite 1'amant que ne la cherche pas : 
 Puisqu'elle n'a point 1'art de cacher son visage, 
 Et qu'elle a la fureur de montrer son esprit, 
 II faut la defier de cesser d'etre sage 
 Et d'entendre ce qu'elle dit.' 
 
 " The giving the epigrams to me, a brother of 
 the craft of authors, was worthy of a friend, and 
 was another proof, if proof were wanting, of the 
 advantages of friends : 
 
 " ' No epigram such pointed satire lends 
 
 As does the memory of our faithful friends.' 
 
 T have an exalted opinion of friendship, as you 
 see. You look incredulous, but you will not 
 only give me credit for being sincere in this 
 opinion, but one day arrive at the same conclusion 
 yourself. ' Shake not ^tij jetty locks at me :' ten 
 years hence, if we both live so long, you will 
 allow that I am right, though you now think me 
 a cynic for saying all this. 
 
 " Madame de Stael," continued Byron, " had 
 peculiar satisfaction in impressing on her auditors 
 the severity of the persecution she underwent 
 from Napoleon : a certain mode of enraging her, 
 was to appear to doubt the extent to which she 
 wished it to be believed this had been pushed, as
 
 NAPOLEON AND MADAME DE STAEL 27 
 
 she looked on the persecution as a triumphant 
 proof of her literary and political importance,, 
 which she more than insinuated Napoleon feared 
 might subvert his government. This was a 
 weakness, but a common one. One half of the 
 clever people of the world believe they are hated 
 and persecuted, and the other half imagine they 
 are admired and beloved. Both are wrong, and 
 both false conclusions are produced by vanity, 
 though that vanity is the strongest which 
 believes in the hatred and persecution, as it 
 implies a belief of extraordinary superiority to 
 account for it." 
 
 I could not suppress the smile that Byron's 
 reflections excited, and, with his usual quick- 
 ness, he instantly felt the application I had made 
 of them to himself, for he blushed, and half 
 angry, half laughing, said : " Oh ! I see what 
 you are smiling at; you think that I have 
 described my own case, and proved myself guilty 
 ot vanity." I allowed that I thought so, as he 
 had a thousand times repeated to me, that he 
 was feared and detested in England, which I 
 never would admit. He tried various arguments 
 to prove to me that it was not vanity, but a 
 knowledge of the fact, that made him believe 
 himself detested : but I continuing to smile and 
 look incredulous, he got really displeased, and 
 said : " You have such a provoking memory,
 
 2S CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 that you compare notes of all one's different 
 opinions, so that one is sure to get into a 
 .scrape." 
 
 Byron observed, that he once told Madame de 
 Stael that he considered her " Delphine " and 
 " Corinne " as very dangerous productions to be 
 put into the hands of young women. I asked 
 him how she received this piece of candour, and 
 he answered : " Oh ! just as all such candid 
 avowals are received she never forgave me for 
 it. She endeavoured to prove to me that, au 
 contraire, the tendencies of both her novels were 
 supereminently moral. I begged that we might 
 not enter on * Delphine,' as that was bors de 
 question (she was furious at this), but that all 
 the moral world thought, that her representing 
 all the virtuous characters in * Corinne ' as being 
 dull, common-place, and tedious, was a most 
 insidious blow aimed at virtue, and calculated to 
 throw it into the shade. She was so excited 
 and impatient to attempt a refutation, that it was 
 only by my volubility I could keep her silent. 
 She interrupted me every moment by gesticu- 
 lating, exclaiming : ' ^uel idee /' * Mon Dieu /' 
 * Ecoutez done ! ' ' Vous tnimpatientez ! ' but I 
 continued saying, how dangerous it was to incul- 
 cate the belief that genius, talent, acquirements, 
 and accomplishments, such as Corinne was repre- 
 sented to possess, could not preserve a woman
 
 A LECTURE ON MORALS 29 
 
 from becoming a victim to an unrequited passion, 
 and that reason, absence, and female pride were 
 unavailing. 
 
 " I told her that * Corinne ' would be con- 
 sidered, if not cited, as an excuse for violent 
 passions, by all young ladies with imaginations 
 exalte, and that she had much to answer for. 
 Had you seen her ! I now wonder how I had 
 courage to go on ; but I was in one of my 
 humours, and had heard of her commenting on 
 
 to 
 
 me one day, so I determined to pay her off. 
 She told me that I, above all people, was the 
 last person that ought to talk of morals, as 
 nobody had done more to deteriorate them. I 
 looked innocent, and added, I was willing to 
 plead guilty of having sometimes represented 
 vice under alluring forms, but so it was generally 
 in the world, therefore it was necessary to paint 
 it so ; but that I never represented virtue under 
 the sombre and disgusting shapes of dulness, 
 severity, and ennui, and that I always took care 
 to represent the votaries of vice as unhappy 
 themselves, and entailing unhappiness on those 
 who loved them ; so that my moral was un- 
 exceptionable. She was perfectly outrageous, 
 and the more so, as I appeared calm and in 
 earnest, though I assure you it required an effort, 
 as I was ready to laugh outright at the idea 
 that /, who was at that period considered the
 
 30 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 most manuals sujet of the day, should give 
 Madame de Stael a lecture on morals ; and I 
 knew that this added to her rage. I also knew 
 she never dared avow that / had taken such a 
 liberty. 
 
 " She was, notwithstanding her little defects, a 
 fine creature, with great talents, and many noble 
 qualities, and had a simplicity quite extraordinary, 
 which led her to believe everything people told 
 her, and consequently to be continually hoaxed, 
 of which I saw such proofs in London. Madame 
 de Stael it was who first lent me * Adolphe,' 
 which you like so much ; it is very clever, and 
 very affecting. A friend of hers told me that 
 she was supposed to be the heroine, and I, with 
 my aimable franchise, insinuated as much to her, 
 which rendered her furious. She proved to me 
 how impossible it was that it could be so, which 
 I already knew, and complained of the malice 
 of the world for supposing it possible." 
 
 Byron has remarkable penetration in discover- 
 ing the characters of those around him, and he 
 piques himself extremely on it ; he also thinks 
 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, for which he does not give 
 himself credit ; his first impulses are always good, 
 but his temper, which is impatient, prevents his
 
 BYRON'S UISJUDGMEXT OF HIMSELF 
 
 acting on the cool dictates of reason ; and it 
 appears to me, that in judging himself, Byron 
 mistakes temper for character, and takes the 
 ebullitions of the first for the indications of the 
 nature of the second. He declares that, in 
 addition to his other failings, avarice is now 
 established. 
 
 This new vice, like all the others he attributes 
 to himself, he talks of as one would name those 
 of an acquaintance, in a sort of deprecating, yet 
 half-mocking tone, as much as to say, " You see 
 I know all my faults better than you do, though 
 I don't choose to correct them." Indeed, it has 
 often occurred to me that he brings forward his 
 defects, as if in anticipation of someone else 
 exposing them, which he would not like ; as, 
 though he affects the contrary, he is jealous of 
 being found fault with, and shows it in a thousand 
 ways. 
 
 He affects to dislike hearing his works praised 
 or referred to I say affects, because I am sure 
 the dislike is not real or natural ; as one who 
 loves praise, as Byron evidently does, in other 
 things, cannot dislike it for that in which he 
 must be conscious it is deserved. He refers to 
 his feats in horsemanship, shooting at a mark, 
 and swimming, in a way that proves he likes to 
 be complimented on them ; and nothing appears 
 to give him more satisfaction than being con-
 
 32 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 sidered a man of fashion, who had great success 
 in fashionable society in London when he resided 
 there. He is peculiarly compassionate to the 
 poor. I remarked that he rarely, in our rides, 
 passed a mendicant without giving him charity, 
 which was invariably bestowed with gentleness 
 and kindness ; this was still more observable if 
 the person was deformed, as if he sympathized 
 with the object. 
 
 Byron is very fond of gossiping, and of hearing 
 what is going on in the London fashionable 
 world ; his friends keep him au courant, and any 
 little scandal amuses him very much. I observed 
 this to him one day, and added, that I thought 
 his mind had been too great to descend to such 
 trifles! He laughed, and said with mock gravity: 
 " Don't you know that the trunk of an elephant, 
 which can lift the most ponderous weights, 
 disdains not to take up the most minute ? This 
 is the case with my great mind (laughing anew), 
 and you must allow the simile is worthy the 
 subject. Jesting apart, I do like a little scandal ; 
 I believe all English people do. 
 
 " An Italian lady, Madame Benzoni, talking to 
 me on the prevalence of this taste among my 
 compatriots, observed, that when she first knew 
 the English, she thought them the most spiteful 
 and ill-natured people in the world, from hearing 
 them constantly repeating evil of each other ;
 
 MADAME BENZONI ON THE ENGLISH 33 
 
 but having seen various amiable traits in their 
 characters, she had arrived at the conclusion that 
 they were not naturally mediant ; but that living 
 in a country like England, where severity of 
 morals punishes so heavily any dereliction from 
 propriety, each individual, to prove personal 
 correctness, was compelled to attack the sins of 
 his or her acquaintance, as it furnished an oppor- 
 tunity of expressing his abhorrence by words, 
 instead of proving it by actions, which might 
 cause some self-denial to themselves. This," 
 said Byron, " was an ingenious, as well as 
 charitable supposition ; and we must all allow 
 that it is infinitely more easy to decry and expose 
 the sins of others than to correct our own ; and 
 many find the first so agreeable an occupation 
 that it precludes the second ; this, at least, is 
 my case.* 
 
 " The Italians do not understand the English," 
 
 * " Once in six or seven years our virtue becomes outrageous. 
 We cannot suffer the laws of religion and decency to be violated. 
 We must make a stand against vice. We must teach libertines 
 that the English people appreciate the importance of domestic 
 ties. Accordingly some unfortunate man, in no respect more 
 depraved than hundreds whose offences have been treated with 
 lenity, is singled out as an expiatory sacrifice. . . . We reflect 
 very complacently on our own severity, and compare with great 
 pride the high standard of morals established in England with the 
 Parisian laxity. At length our anger is satiated. Our victim is 
 ruined and heart-broken. And our virtue goes quietly to sleep 
 for seven years more." MACAULAY.
 
 34 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 said Byron ; " indeed, how can they ? for they 
 (the Italians) are frank, simple, and open in their 
 natures, following the bent of their inclinations, 
 which they do not believe to be wicked ; while 
 the English, to conceal the indulgence of theirs, 
 daily practise hypocrisy, falsehood, and un- 
 charitableness ; so that to one error is added many 
 crimes." Byron had now got on a favourite 
 subject, and went on decrying hypocrisy and cant, 
 mingling sarcasms and bitter observations on the 
 false delicacy of the English. It is strange, but 
 true as strange, that he could not, or at least did 
 not, distinguish between cause and effect in this 
 case. The respect for virtue will always cause 
 spurious imitations of it to be given; and what he 
 calls hypocrisy is but the respect paid to public 
 opinion that induces people, who have not courage 
 to correct their errors, at least to endeavour 
 to conceal them ; and Cant is the homage that 
 Vice pays to Virtue.* We do not value the 
 diamond less because there are so many worthless 
 imitations of it, and Goodness loses nothing of 
 her intrinsic value because so many wish to be 
 thought to possess it. That nation may be 
 
 * Lady Blessington attributes this saying to Rochefoucauld. 
 But he wrote "hypocrisy," which differs from "cant," for which 
 there is no equivalent in French. A Frenchman writes " le cant 
 Britannique " when he desires to express what the word implies. 
 An Englishman will write about " a canting hypocrite."
 
 THE DUKE OF LEEDS 35 
 
 considered to possess the most virtue where it is 
 the most highly appreciated ; and that the least, 
 where it is so little understood, that the semblance 
 is not even assumed. 
 
 About this period the Duke of Leeds and 
 family arrived at Genoa, and passed a day or two 
 there at the same hotel where we were residing. 
 Shortly after their departure Byron came to dine 
 with us, and expressed his mortification at the 
 Duke's not having called on him, were it only 
 out of respect to Mrs. Leigh, who was the half- 
 sister of both. This seemed to annov him so 
 
 J 
 
 much that I endeavoured to point out the inutility 
 of ceremony between people who could have no 
 two ideas in common, and observed that the gene 
 of finding one's self with people of totally different 
 habits and feelings was ill repaid by the respect 
 their civility indicated. Byron is a person to be 
 excessively bored by the constraint that any 
 change of system would occasion, even for a 
 day ; but yet his amour propre is wounded by 
 any marks of incivility or want of respect he 
 meets with. Poor Byron ! He is still far from 
 arriving at the philosophy that he aims at and 
 thinks he has acquired, when the absence or 
 presence of a person who is indifferent to him, 
 whatever his station in life may be, can occupy 
 his thoughts for a moment. 
 
 I have observed in Byron a habit of attaching
 
 36 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 importance to trifles, and, vice-versa, turning 
 serious events into ridicule ; he is extremely 
 superstitious, and seems offended with those who 
 cannot, or will not, partake this weakness. He 
 has frequently touched on this subject, and 
 tauntingly observed to me that I must believe 
 myself wiser than him, because I was not super- 
 stitious. I answered that the vividness of his 
 imagination, which was proved by his works, 
 furnished a sufficient excuse for his superstition, 
 which was caused bv an over-excitement of that 
 
 ^ 
 
 faculty ; but that /, not being blessed by the 
 camera lucida of imagination, could have no excuse 
 for the camera obscura, which I considered super- 
 stition to be. This did not, however, content 
 him, and I am sure he left me with a lower 
 opinion of my faculties than before. To deprecate 
 his anger, I observed that Nature was so wise 
 and good that she gave compensations to all her 
 offspring ; that as to him she had given the 
 brightest gift genius, so to those whom she had 
 not so distinguished she gave the less brilliant, 
 but perhaps as useful, gift of plain and unsophis- 
 ticated reason. This did not satisfy his amour 
 propre, and he left me, evidently displeased at my 
 want of superstition. 
 
 Byron is, I believe, sincere in his belief in 
 supernatural appearances ; he assumes a grave and 
 mysterious air when he talks on the subject,
 
 BYRON'S SUPERSTITIOUS NATURE 37 
 
 which he is fond of doing, and has told me 
 some extraordinary stories relative to Mr. 
 Shelley,* who, he assures me, had an implicit 
 belief in ghosts. He also told me that Mr. 
 Shelley's spectre had appeared to a lady, walking 
 in a garden, and he seemed to lay great stress 
 on this. Though some of the wisest of man- 
 kind, as witness Johnson, shared this weakness 
 in common with Byron, still there is something 
 so unusual in our matter-of-fact days in giving 
 way to it, that I was at first doubtful that Byron 
 was serious in his belief. He is also superstitious 
 about days, and other trifling things believes in 
 lucky and unlucky days dislikes undertaking 
 anything on a Friday, helping or being helped 
 to salt at table, spilling salt or oil, letting bread 
 fall, and breaking mirrors ; in short, he gives 
 way to a thousand fantastical notions, that prove 
 that even I' esprit le plus fort has its weak side. 
 
 Having declined riding with Byron one day, 
 on the plea of going to visit some of the Genoese 
 palaces and pictures, it furnished him with a 
 subject of attack at our next interview ; he 
 declared that he never believed people serious in 
 their admiration of pictures, statues, etc., and 
 that those who expressed the most admiration 
 
 * Percy Bysshe Shelley, whose fame as a poet is not second to 
 that of Byron, was born August 4th, 1792, and died by drowning 
 between Leghorn and Spezzia July 8th, 1822.
 
 38 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 were Amatori senza Amore, and Conosciton senza 
 Cognizione. I replied, that as I had never talked 
 co him of pictures, I hoped he would give me 
 credit for being sincere in my admiration of 
 them : but he was in no humour to give one 
 credit for anything on this occasion, as he felt 
 that our giving a preference to seeing sights, 
 when we might have passed the hours with him, 
 was not flattering to his vanity. 
 
 I should say that Byron was not either skilled 
 in, or an admirer of, works of art ; he confessed 
 to me that very few had excited his attention, and 
 that to admire these he had been forced to draw 
 on his imagination. Of objects of taste or virtu 
 he was equally regardless, and antiquities had no 
 interest for him ; nay, he carried this so far, that 
 he disbelieved the possibility of their exciting 
 interest in anyone, and said that they merely served 
 as excuses for indulging the vanity and ostentation 
 of those who had no other means of exciting 
 attention. Music he liked, though he was no 
 judge of it: he often dwelt on the power of asso- 
 ciation it possessed, and declared that the notes of 
 a well-known air could transport him to distant 
 scenes and events, presenting objects before him 
 with a vividness that quite banished the present. 
 Perfumes, he said, produced the same effect, 
 though less forcibly, and, added he, with his mock- 
 ing smile, "often make me quite sentimental."
 
 BYRON'S INSTABILITY OF CHARACTER 39 
 
 Byron is of a very suspicious nature ; he 
 dreads imposition on all points, declares that 
 he foregoes many things, from the fear of being 
 cheated in the purchase, and is afraid to give 
 way to the natural impulses of his character, 
 lest he should be duped or mocked. This does 
 not interfere with his charities, which are fre- 
 quent and liberal ; but he has got into a habit 
 of calculating even his most trifling personal 
 expenses, that is often ludicrous, and would in 
 England expose him to ridicule. He indulges 
 in a self-complacency when talking of his own 
 defects, that is amusing ; and he is more willing 
 than reluctant to bring them into observation. 
 He says that money is wisdom, knowledge, and 
 power, all combined, and that this conviction is 
 the only one he has in common with all his 
 countrymen. He dwells with great asperity on 
 an acquaintance to whom he lent some money, 
 and who had not repaid him. 
 
 Byron seems to take a peculiar pleasure in 
 ridiculing sentiment and romantic feelings ; and 
 yet the day after will betray both, to an extent 
 that appears impossible to be sincere, to those 
 who had heard his previous sarcasms : that he 
 is sincere, is evident, as his eyes fill with tears, 
 his voice becomes tremulous, and his whole 
 manner evinces that he feels what he says. All 
 this appears so inconsistent, that it destroys sym-
 
 40 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 pathy, or if it does not quite do that, it makes 
 one angry with one's self for giving way to it for 
 one who is never two days of the same way of 
 thinking, or at least expressing himself. He 
 talks for effect, likes to excite astonishment, and 
 certainly destroys in the minds of his auditors 
 all confidence in his stability of character. This 
 must, I am certain, be felt by all who have lived 
 much in his society ; and the impression is not 
 satisfactory. 
 
 Talking one day of his domestic misfortunes, as 
 he always called his separation from Lady Byron, 
 he dwelt in a sort of unmanly strain of lamenta- 
 tion on it, which all present felt to be unworthy 
 of him ; and, as the evening before I had heard 
 this habitude of his commented on by persons 
 indifferent about his feelings, who even ridiculed 
 his making it a topic of conversation with mere 
 acquaintances, I wrote a few lines in verse, ex- 
 pressive of my sentiments, and handed it across 
 the table round which we were seated, as he was 
 sitting for his portrait. He read them, became 
 red and pale by turns, with anger, and threw 
 them down on the table, with an expression of 
 countenance that is not to be forgotten. The 
 following are the lines, which had nothing to 
 offend ; but they did offend him deeply, and he 
 did not recover his temper during the rest of 
 his stay.
 
 BYRON AND SENTIMENT 41 
 
 " And canst thou bare thy breast to vulgar eyes ? 
 
 And canst thou show the wounds that rankle there ? 
 Methought in noble hearts that sorrow lies 
 Too deep to suffer coarser minds to share. 
 
 " The wounds inflicted by the hand we love, 
 
 (The hand that should have warded off each blow,) 
 Are never heal'd, as aching hearts can prove, 
 But sacred should the stream of sorrow flow. 
 
 " If friendship 's pity quells not real grief, 
 
 Can public pity soothe thy woes to sleep ? 
 
 No ! Byron, spurn such vain, such weak relief, 
 
 And if thy tears must fall in secret weep." 
 
 He never appeared to so little advantage as 
 when he talked sentiment : this did not at all 
 
 strike me at first : on the contrarv, it excited a 
 
 j ' 
 
 powerful interest for him ; but when he had 
 vented his spleen in sarcasms, and pointed ridi- 
 cule on sentiment, reducing all that is noblest 
 in our natures to the level of common every-day 
 life, the charm was broken, and it was impos- 
 sible to sympathize with him again. He observed 
 something of this, and seemed dissatisfied and 
 restless when he perceived that he could no 
 longer excite either strong sympathy or astonish- 
 ment. Notwithstanding all these contradictions 
 in this wayward, spoiled child of genius, the 
 impression left on my mind was, that he had 
 both sentiment and romance in his nature; but 
 that, from the love of displaying his wit and 
 astonishing his hearers, he affected to despise and 
 ridicule them.
 
 [42 ] 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Daily rides Clever people great talkers The fatigue of literary 
 occupation A lady's album Moore and the critic 
 Fashionable life in London as it appeared to Byron English 
 country life Les dames a la mode English and French 
 idiosyncrasies The village of Nervi Byron on horseback 
 Peculiarities of his riding-costume and his horse's caparison 
 Byron's horror of necrologists Friendless poets Byron 
 as literary critic Sir Walter Scott, author and man Byron's 
 appreciation of his works Cervantes surpassed by Scott 
 Byron at his best His acute observation Italian moon- 
 light Genoese sailors " God save the King " in a foreign 
 land The Stoic philosopher The Countess Guiccioli The 
 Counts Gamba " Don Juan " Hope's " Anastasius " 
 Gait's novels and Wilkie's pictures The genius of Mrs. 
 Hemans Byron's dislike for the Lake school of poets 
 Keats. 
 
 FROM this period we saw Lord Byron fre- 
 quently ; he met us in our rides nearly every 
 day, and the road to Nervi became our favourite 
 promenade. While riding by the sea-shore, he 
 often recurred to the events of his life, ming- 
 ling sarcasms on himself with bitter pleasantries 
 against others. He dined often with us, and 
 sometimes came after dinner, as he complained 
 that he suffered from indulging at our repasts,
 
 CLEVER PEOPLE GREAT TALKERS 43 
 
 as animal food disagreed with him. He added, 
 that even the excitement of society, though agree- 
 able and exhilarating at the time, left a nervous 
 irritation, which prevented sleep or occupation 
 for many hours afterwards. 
 
 I once spoke to him, by the desire of his 
 medical adviser, on the necessity of his accus- 
 toming himself to a more nutritious regimen i 
 but he declared, that if he did, he should get fat 
 and stupid, and that he felt it was only by absti- 
 nence that he had the power of exercising his 
 mind. He complained of being spoiled for 
 society, by having so long lived out of it ; and 
 said, that though naturally of a quick appre- 
 hension, he latterly felt himself dull and stupid. 
 The impression left on my mind is, that Byron 
 never could have been a brilliant person in 
 society, and that he was not formed for what 
 generally is understood by that term : he has 
 none of the " small change " that passes current 
 in the mart of society ; his gold is in ingots, and 
 cannot be brought into use for trifling expendi- 
 tures ; he, however, talks a good deal, and likes 
 to raconter. 
 
 Speaking of people who were great talkers, he 
 said that almost all clever people were such, and 
 gave several examples : amongst others, he cited 
 Voltaire, Horace Walpole, Johnson, Napoleon 
 Bonaparte, and Madame de Stae'l. " But," said
 
 44 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 he, " my friend, Lady , would have talked 
 
 them all out of the field. She, I suppose, has 
 heard that all clever people are great talkers, 
 and so has determined on displaying at least one 
 attribute of that genus ; but her ladyship would 
 do well to recollect that all great talkers are not 
 clever people a truism that no one can doubt 
 who has been often in her society. 
 
 " Lady ," continued Byron, " with beau- 
 coup de ridicule, has many essentially fine quali- 
 ties ; she is independent in her principles 
 though, by-the-bye, like all Independents, she 
 allows that privilege to few others, being the 
 veriest tyrant that ever governed Fashion's fools, 
 who are compelled to shake their caps and bells 
 as she wills it. Of all that coterie" said Byron, 
 
 " Madame de , after Lady , was the 
 
 best ; at least I thought so, for these two ladies 
 were the only ones who ventured to protect me 
 when all London was crying out against me on 
 the separation, and they behaved courageously 
 
 and kindly ; indeed, Madame de defended 
 
 me when few dared to do so, and I have always 
 
 remembered it. Poor dear Lady ! does 
 
 she still retain her beautiful cream-coloured com- 
 plexion and raven hair ? I used to long to tell 
 her that she spoiled her looks by her excessive 
 animation ; for eyes, tongue, head, and arms were 
 all in movement at once, and were only relieved
 
 A LADY'S ALBUM 45 
 
 from their active service by want of respiration. 
 I shall never forget when she once complained 
 to me of the fatigue of literary occupations, and 
 I in terror expected her ladyship to propose 
 reading to me an epic poem, tragedy, or at least 
 a novel of her composition, when lo ! she dis- 
 played to me a very richly-bound album, half 
 filled with printed extracts cut out of newspapers 
 and magazines, which she had selected and pasted 
 in the book ; and I (happy at being let off so 
 easily) sincerely agreed with her that literature 
 was very tiresome. I understand that she has 
 now advanced with the ' march of intellect,' and 
 got an album filled with MS. poetry, to which 
 all of us of the craft have contributed. I was 
 the first ; Moore wrote something, which was, 
 like all that he writes, very sparkling and terse ; 
 but he got dissatisfied with the faint praise it met 
 with from the husband before Miladi saw the 
 verses, and destroyed the effusion : I know not if 
 he ever has supplied their place. Can you fancy 
 Moore paying attention to the opinion of Milor 
 on poesy ? Had it been on racing or horse-flesh 
 he might have been right ; but Pegasus is, per- 
 haps, the only horse of whose paces Lord - 
 could not be a judge." 
 
 Talking of fashionable life in London, Lord 
 Byron said that there was nothing so vapid and 
 ennuyeux. " The English," said he, " were in-
 
 46 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 tended by nature to bs good, sober-minded 
 people, and those who live in the country are 
 really admirable. I saw a good deal of English 
 country life, and it is the only favourable im- 
 pression that remains of our mode of living; but 
 of London and exclusive society I retain a fearful 
 recollection. Dissipation has need of wit, talent, 
 and gaiety to prevent reflection, and make the 
 eternal round of frivolous amusements pass ; and 
 of these," continued Byron, " there was a terrible 
 lack in the society in which I mixed. The 
 minds of the English are formed of sterner stuff. 
 You may make an English woman (indeed, 
 Nature does this) the best daughter, wife, and 
 mother in the world nay, you may make her a 
 heroine ; but nothing can make her a genuine 
 woman of fashion ! And yet this latter role is the 
 one which, par preference, she always wishes to 
 act. 
 
 " Thorough-bred English gentlewomen," said 
 Byron, " are the most distinguished and lady-like 
 creatures imaginable. Natural, mild, and digni- 
 fied, they are formed to be placed at the heads 
 of our patrician establishments ; but when they 
 quit their congenial spheres to enact the leaders 
 of fashion, les dames a la mode, they bungle sadly ; 
 their gaiety degenerates into levity, their hauteur 
 into incivility, their fashionable ease and non- 
 chalance into brusquerie, and their attempts at
 
 LONDON SOCIETY 4? 
 
 assuming les usages du monde into a positive out- 
 rage on all the bienseances. In short, they offer 
 a coarse caricature of the airy flightiness and 
 capricious, but amusing, legerete of the French, 
 without any of their redeeming espieglerie and 
 politesse. And all this because they will perform 
 parts in the comedy of life for which nature has 
 not formed them, neglecting their own dignified 
 characters. 
 
 " Madame de Stael," continued Lord Byron, 
 " was forcibly struck by the factitious tone of the 
 best society in London, and wished very much 
 to have an opportunity of judging of that of the 
 second class. She, however, had not this oppor- 
 tunity, which I regret, as I think it would have 
 justified her expectations. In England the raw 
 material is generally good ; it is the over-dressing 
 that injures it ; and as the class she wished to 
 study are well educated, and have all the refine- 
 ment of civilization without its corruption, she 
 would have carried away a favourable impression. 
 Lord Grey and his family were the personifica- 
 tion of her beau ideal of perfection, as I must say 
 they are of mine," continued Byron, " and might 
 serve as the finest specimens of the pure English 
 patrician breed, of which so few remain. His 
 uncompromising and uncompromised dignity, 
 founded on self-respect, and accompanied by that 
 certain proof of superiority simplicity of manner
 
 48 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 and freedom from affectation, with her mild and 
 matron graces, her whole life offering a model to 
 wives and mothers really they are people to be 
 proud of, and a few such would reconcile one to 
 one's species." 
 
 One of our first rides with Lord Byron was to 
 Nervi, a village on the sea-coast, most romanti- 
 cally situated, and each turn of the road present- 
 ing various and beautiful prospects. They were 
 all familiar to him, and he failed not to point 
 them out, but in very sober terms, never allow- 
 ing anything like enthusiasm in his expressions, 
 though many of the views might have excited it. 
 
 His appearance on horseback was not advan- 
 tageous, and he seemed aware of it, for he made 
 many excuses for his dress and equestrian ap- 
 pointments. His horse was literally covered with 
 various trappings, in the way of cavesons, martin- 
 gales, and Heaven knows how many other (to 
 me) unknown inventions. The saddle was a la 
 hussarde with holsters, in which he always carried 
 pistols. His dress consisted of a nankeen jacket 
 and trousers, which appeared to have shrunk 
 from washing ; the jacket embroidered in the 
 same colour, and with three rows of buttons ; the 
 waist very short, the back very narrow, and the 
 sleeves set in as they used to be ten or fifteen 
 years before ; a black stock, very narrow ; a 
 dark-blue velvet cap with a shade, and a very
 
 BYRON ON HORSEBACK 49 
 
 rich gold band and large gold tassel at the 
 crown ; nankeen gaiters and a pair ,of blue 
 spectacles completed his costume, which was any- 
 thing but becoming. This was his general dress 
 of a morning for riding, but I have seen it 
 changed for a green tartan plaid jacket. 
 
 He did not ride well, which surprised us, as, 
 from the frequent allusions to horsemanship in 
 his works, we expected to find him almost a 
 Nimrod. It was evident that he had pretensions 
 on this point, though he certainly was what I 
 should call a timid rider. When his horse made 
 a false step, which was not unfrequent, he seemed 
 discomposed ; and when we came to any bad 
 part of the road he immediately checked his 
 course and walked his horse very slowly, though 
 there really was nothing to make even a lady 
 nervous. Finding that I could perfectly manage 
 (or what he called bully} a very highly-dressed 
 horse that I daily rode, he became extremely 
 anxious to buy it ; asked me a thousand questions 
 as to how I had acquired such a perfect command 
 of it, etc., etc., and entreated as the greatest 
 favour that I would resign it to him as a charger 
 to take to Greece, declaring he never would part 
 with it, etc. As I was by no means a bold rider, 
 we were rather amused at observing Lord Byron 's 
 opinion of my courage ; and as he seemed so 
 anxious for the horse, I agreed to let him have it 
 
 4
 
 50 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 when he was to embark. From this time he 
 paid particular attention to the movements of 
 poor Mameluke (the name of the horse), and 
 said he should now feel confidence in action with 
 so steady a charger. 
 
 During our ride the conversation turned on 
 our mutual friends and acquaintances in England. 
 Talking of two of them, for one of whom he pro- 
 fessed a great regard, he declared laughingly that 
 they had saved him from suicide. Seeing me 
 look grave, he added, " It is a fact, I assure you : 
 I should positively have destroyed myself, but I 
 
 guessed that or would write my life, 
 
 and with this fear before my eyes I have lived on. 
 I know so well the sort of things they would 
 write of me the excuses, lame as myself, that 
 they would offer for my delinquencies, while they 
 were unnecessarily exposing them ; and all this 
 done with the avowed intention of justifying 
 what God help me ! cannot be justified, my 
 unpoetical reputation, with which the world can 
 have nothing to do. One of my friends would 
 dip his pen in clarified honey, and the other in 
 vinegar, to describe my manifold transgressions ; 
 and as I do not wish my poor fame to be either 
 preserved or pickled, I have lived on and written 
 my Memoirs, where facts will speak for them- 
 selves, without the editorial candour of excuses, 
 such as, * We cannot excuse this unhappy error,
 
 FRIENDLESS POETS 
 
 or defend that impropriety !' the mode," con- 
 tinued Byron, " in which friends exalt their own 
 prudence and virtue, by exhibiting the want of 
 those qualities in the dear departed, and by 
 marking their disapproval of his errors. I have 
 written my Memoirs," said Byron, " to save the 
 necessity of their being written by a friend or 
 friends, and have only to hope they will not add 
 notes." 
 
 I remarked, with a smile, that at all events he 
 anticipated his friends by saying beforehand as 
 many ill-natured things of them as they could 
 possibly ivrite of him. He laughed, and said, 
 " Depend on it we are equal. Poets (and I may, 
 I suppose, without presumption, count myself 
 among that favoured race, as it has pleased the 
 Fates to make me one,) have no friends. On 
 the old principle, that * union gives force,' we 
 sometimes agree to have a violent friendship for 
 each other. We dedicate, we bepraise, we write 
 pretty letters, but we do not deceive each other. 
 In short, we resemble you fair ladies, when some 
 half dozen of the fairest of you p ofess to love 
 each other mightily, correspond so sweetly, call 
 each other by such pretty epithets, and laugh in 
 your hearts at those who are taken in by such 
 appearances." 
 
 I endeavoured to defend my sex, but he 
 adhered to his opinion. I ought to add that
 
 52 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 during this conversation he was very gay, and 
 that though his words may appear severe, there 
 was no severity in his manner. The natural 
 flippancy of Lord Byron took off all appearance 
 of premeditation or bitterness from his remarks, 
 even when they were acrimonious, and the im- 
 pression conveyed to, and left on my mind was, 
 that for the most part they were uttered more in 
 jest than in earnest. They were, however, suffi- 
 ciently severe to make me feel that there was no 
 safety with him, and that in five minutes after 
 one's quitting him on terms of friendship, he 
 could not resist the temptation of showing one 
 up, either in conversation or by letter, though 
 in another half-hour he would put himself to 
 personal inconvenience to render a kindness to 
 the person so shown up. 
 
 I remarked, that in talking of literary produc- 
 tions, he seemed much more susceptible to their 
 defects, than alive to their beauties. As a proof, 
 he never failed to remember some quotation that 
 told against the unhappy author, which he re- 
 cited with an emphasis, or a mock-heroic air, that 
 made it very ludicrous. The pathetic he always 
 burlesqued in reciting ; but this I am sure pro- 
 ceeded from an affectation of not sympathizing 
 with the general taste. 
 
 April . Lord Byron dined with us to-day. 
 During dinner he was as usual gay, spoke in
 
 BYRON AT HIS BEST 53 
 
 terms of the warmest commendation of Sir Walter 
 Scott, not only as an author, but as a man, and 
 dwelt with apparent delight on his novels, 
 declaring that he had read and re-read them over 
 and over again, and always with increased plea- 
 sure. He said that he quite equalled, nay, in his 
 opinion surpassed, Cervantes. In talking of Sir 
 Walter's private character, goodness of heart, etc., 
 Lord Byron became more animated than I had 
 ever seen him ; his colour changed from its 
 general pallid tint to a more lively hue, and his 
 eyes became humid ; never had he appeared to 
 such advantage, and it might easily be seen that 
 every expression he uttered proceeded from his 
 heart. Poor Byron ! for poor he is even with 
 all his genius, rank, and wealth had he lived 
 more with men like Scott, whose openness of 
 character and steady principle had convinced him 
 that they were in earnest in their goodness, and 
 not making believe, (as he always suspects good 
 people to be,) his life might be different and 
 happier. 
 
 Byron is so acute an observer that nothing 
 escapes him ; all the shades of selfishness and 
 vanity are exposed to his searching glance, and 
 the misfortune is (and a serious one it is to him) 
 that when he finds these, and alas ! they are to 
 be found on every side, they disgust and prevent 
 his giving credit to the many good qualities that
 
 54 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 often accompany them. He declares he can 
 sooner pardon crimes, because they proceed from 
 the passions, than these minor vices, which spring 
 from selfishness and self-conceit. We had a long 
 argument this evening on the subject, which 
 ended, like most arguments, by leaving both of 
 the same opinion as when it commenced. I 
 endeavoured to prove that crimes were not only 
 injurious to the perpetrators, but often ruinous to 
 the innocent, and productive of misery to friends 
 and relations, whereas selfishness and vanity car- 
 ried with them their own punishment, the first 
 depriving the person of all sympathy, and the 
 second exposing him to ridicule, which to the 
 vain is a heavy punishment, but that their effects 
 were not destructive to society as are crimes. 
 
 He laughed when I told him that, having heard 
 him so often declaim against vanity, and detect 
 it so often in his friends, I began to suspect he 
 knew the malady by having had it himself, and 
 that I had observed through liie that those 
 persons who had the most vanity were the most 
 severe against that failing in their friends. He 
 wished to impress upon me that he was not vain, 
 and gave various proofs to establish this ; but I 
 produced against him his boasts of swimming, 
 his evident desire of being considered more un 
 homme de societe than a poet, and other little 
 examples, when he laughingly pleaded guilty,
 
 ITALIAN MOONLIGHT 
 
 and promised to be more merciful towards his 
 friends. 
 
 After tea we sat on the balcony : it commands 
 a fine view, and we had one of those moonlight 
 nights that are seen only in this country. Every 
 object was tinged with its silvery lustre. In 
 front were crowded an uncountable number of 
 ships from every country, with their various flags 
 waving in the breeze, which bore to us the sounds 
 of the as various languages of the crews. In the 
 distance we enjoyed a more expanded view of the 
 sea, which reminded Byron of his friend Moore's 
 description, which he quoted : 
 
 '' The sea is like a silv'ry lake." 
 
 The fanale (lighthouse) casting its golden blaze 
 into this silvery lake, and throwing a red lurid 
 reflection on the sails of the vessels that passed 
 near it ; the fishermen, with their small boats, 
 each having a fire held in a sort of grate fastened 
 at the bow of the boat, which burns brilliantly, 
 and by which they not only see the fish that 
 approach, but attract them ; their scarlet caps, 
 which all the Genoese sailors and fishermen wear, 
 adding much to their picturesque appearance, all 
 formed a picture that description falls far short 
 of; and when to this are joined the bland odours 
 of the richest and rarest flowers, with which the 
 balconies are filled, one feels that such nights are
 
 56 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 never to be forgotten, and while the senses dwell 
 on each, and all, a delicious melancholy steals 
 over the mind, as it reflects that, the destinies of 
 each conducting to far distant regions, a time will 
 arrive when all now before the eye will appear 
 but as a dream. 
 
 This was felt by all the party ; and after a 
 silence of many minutes, it was broken by Byron, 
 who remarked, ** What an evening, and what a 
 view ! Should we ever meet in the dense atmo- 
 sphere of London, shall we not recall this evening, 
 and the scenery now before us ? but, no ! most 
 probably there we should not feel as we do here ; 
 we should fall into the same heartless, loveless 
 apathy that distinguishes one half of our dear 
 compatriots, or the bustling, impertinent import- 
 ance to be considered supreme bon ton that marks 
 the other." 
 
 Byron spoke with bitterness, but it was the 
 bitterness of a fine nature soured by having been. 
 touched too closely by those who had lost their 
 better feelings through contact with the world. 
 After a few minutes' silence, he said, " Look at 
 that forest of masts now before us ! from what 
 remote parts of the world do they come ; o'er 
 how many waves have they not passed, and how 
 many tempests have they not been, and may 
 again be exposed to ! how many hearts and tender 
 thoughts follow them ! mothers, wives, sisters,
 
 THE STOIC PHILOSOPHER 57 
 
 and sweethearts, who perhaps at this hour are 
 offering up prayers for their safety." 
 
 While he was yet speaking, sounds of vocal 
 music arose ; national hymns and barcaroles were 
 sung in turns by the different crews, and when 
 they had ceased, " God save the King ' was 
 sung by the crews of some English merchantmen 
 lying close to the pier. This was a surprise to 
 us all, and its effect on our feelings was magnetic. 
 Byron was no less touched than the rest ; each 
 felt at the moment that tie of country which 
 unites all when they meet on a far distant shore. 
 When the song ceased, Byron, with a melancholy 
 smile, observed, " Why, positively, we are all 
 quite sentimental this evening, and / / who 
 have sworn against sentimentality, find the old 
 leaven still in my nature, and quite ready to 
 make a fool of me. ' Tell it not in Gath ' that 
 is to say, breathe it not in London, or to English 
 ears polite, or never again shall I be able to enact 
 the stoic philosopher. Come, come ; this will 
 never do. We must forswear moonlight, fine 
 views, and above all, hearing a national air sung. 
 Little does his gracious Majesty Big Ben, as 
 Moore calls him, imagine what loyal subjects he 
 has at Genoa, and least of all that I am among 
 their number." 
 
 Byron attempted to be gay, but the effort was 
 not successful, and he wished us good-night with
 
 58 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 a trepidation of manner that marked his feelings. 
 And this is the man that I have heard considered 
 unfeeling ! How often are our best qualities 
 turned against us, and made the instruments for 
 wounding us in the most vulnerable part, until, 
 ashamed of betraying our susceptibility, we affect 
 an insensibility we are far from possessing, and, 
 while we deceive others, nourish in secret the 
 feelings that prey only on our own hearts ! 
 
 It is difficult to judge when Lord Byron is 
 serious or not. He has a habit of mystifying, 
 that might impose upon many, but that can be 
 detected by examining his physiognomy ; for a 
 sort of mock gravity, now and then broken by 
 a malicious smile, betrays when he is speaking 
 for effect, and not giving utterance to his real 
 sentiments. If he sees that he is detected, he 
 appears angry for a moment, and then laughingly 
 admits that it amuses him to hoax people, as he 
 calls it, and that when each person, at some 
 future day, will give their different statements 
 of him, they will be so contradictory that all 
 will be doubted an idea that gratifies him ex- 
 ceedingly ! 
 
 The mobility of his nature is extraordinary, 
 and makes him inconsistent in his actions as well 
 as in his conversation. He introduced the subject 
 of the Countess Guiccioli and her family, which 
 we, of course, would not have touched on. He
 
 THE COUNTESS GU1CCIOLI 59 
 
 stated that they lived beneath his roof because 
 his rank as a British peer afforded her father and 
 brother protection, they having been banished 
 from Ravenna, their native place, on account of 
 their politics. He spoke, in high terms of the 
 Counts Gamba, father and son ; he said that he 
 had given the family a wing of his house, but 
 that their establishments were totally separate, 
 their repasts never taken together, and that such 
 was their scrupulous delicacy, that they never 
 would accept a pecuniary obligation from him in 
 all the difficulties entailed on them by their exile. 
 He represented the Countess Guiccioli as a 
 most amiable and lady-like person, perfectly dis- 
 interested and noble-minded, devotedlv attached 
 
 j 
 
 to him, and possessing so many high and estimable 
 qualities as to offer an excuse for any man's 
 attachment to her. He said that he had been 
 passionately in love with her, and that she had 
 sacrificed everything for him ; that the whole 
 of her conduct towards him had been admirable, 
 and that not only did he feel the strongest personal 
 attachment to her, but the highest sentiments of 
 esteem. He dwelt with evident complacency 
 on her noble birth and distinguished connections 
 advantages to which he attaches great import- 
 ance. I never met anyone with so decided a 
 taste for aristocracy as Lord Byron, and this is 
 shown in a thousand different ways.
 
 60 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 He says the Countess is well educated, re- 
 markably fond of, and well read in, the poetry 
 of her own country, and a tolerable proficient in 
 that of France and England. In his praises of 
 the Countess Guiccioli, it is quite evident that 
 he is sincere, and I am persuaded this is his last 
 attachment. He told me that she had used every 
 effort to get him to discontinue " Don Juan," or 
 at least to preserve the future cantos from all 
 impure passages. In short, he has said all that 
 was possible to impress me with a favourable 
 opinion of this lady, and has convinced me 
 that he entertains a very high one of her 
 himself. 
 
 Byron is a strange melange of good and evil, 
 the predominancy of either depending wholly on 
 the humour he may happen to be in. His is a 
 character that Nature totally unfitted for domestic 
 habits, or for rendering a woman of refinement 
 or susceptibility happy. He confesses to me that 
 he is not happy, but admits that it is his own 
 fault, as the Countess Guiccioli, the only object 
 of his love, has all the qualities to render a 
 reasonable being happy. I observed, apropos to 
 some observation he had made, that I feared 
 the Countess Guiccioli had little reason to be 
 satisfied with her lot. He answered : " Perhaps 
 you are right, yet she must know that I am 
 sincerely attached to her ; but the truth is, my
 
 BYRON ON THE POETICAL TEMPERAMENT 6r 
 
 habits are not those requisite to form the happiness 
 of any woman. I am worn out in feelings, for, 
 though only thirty-six, I feel sixty in mind, and 
 am less capable than ever of those nameless 
 attentions that all women, but, above all, Italian 
 women, require. I like solitude, which has 
 become absolutely necessary to me ; am fond of 
 shutting myself up for hours, and, when with 
 the person I like, am often distrait and gloomy. 
 
 "There is something, I am convinced (continued 
 Byron), in the poetical temperament that pre- 
 cludes happiness, not only to the person who has 
 it, but to those connected with him. Do not 
 accuse me of vanity because I say this, as my 
 belief is that the worst poet may share this 
 misfortune in common with the best. The way 
 in which I account for it is, that our imaginations 
 being warmer than our hearts, and much more 
 given to wander, the latter have not the power 
 to control the former ; hence, soon after our 
 passions are gratified, imagination again takes 
 wing, and, finding the insufficiency of actual in- 
 dulgence beyond the moment, abandons itself to 
 all its wayward fancies, and during this abandon- 
 ment becomes cold and insensible to the demands 
 of affection. This is our misfortune, but not our 
 fault, and dearly do we expiate it; by it we are 
 rendered incapable of sympathy, and cannot 
 lighten, by sharing, the pain we inflict. Thus
 
 62 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 we witness, without the power of alleviating, the 
 anxiety and dissatisfaction our conduct occasions. 
 " We are not so totally unfeeling as not to be 
 grieved at the unhappiness we cause ; but this 
 same power of imagination transports our thoughts 
 to other scenes, and we are always so much more 
 occupied by the ideal than the present that we 
 forget all that is actual. It is as though the 
 creatures of another sphere, not subject to the 
 lot of mortality, formed a factitious alliance (as 
 all alliances must be that are not in all respects 
 equal) with the creatures of this earth, and, being 
 exempt from its sufferings, turned their thoughts 
 to brighter regions, leaving the partners of their 
 earthly existence to suffer alone. But let the 
 object of affection be snatched away by death, 
 and how is all the pain ever inflicted on them 
 avenged ! The same imagination that led us to 
 slight, or overlook their sufferings, now that they 
 are for ever lost to us, magnifies their estimable 
 qualities, and increases tenfold the affection we 
 ever felt for them : 
 
 ,v 
 
 > 
 
 " ' Oh ! what are thousand living loves, 
 To that which cannot quit the dead ?' 
 
 How did I feel this when Allegra, my daughter, 
 died ! While she lived, her existence never 
 seemed necessary to my happiness ; but no sooner 
 did I lose her than it appeared to me as if I
 
 BYRON'S BESETTING SIN 63 
 
 could not live without her. Even now the recol- 
 lection is most bitter ; but how much more 
 severely would the death of Teresa afflict me 
 with the dreadful consciousness that while I had 
 been soaring into the fields of romance and fancy 
 I had left her to weep over my coldness or 
 infidelities of imagination. It is a dreadful proof 
 of the weakness of our natures that we cannot 
 control ourselves sufficiently to form the happiness 
 of those we love, or to bear their loss without 
 agony." 
 
 The whole of this conversation made a deep 
 impression on my mind, and the countenance of 
 the speaker, full yf earnestness and feeling, im- 
 pressed it still more strongly on my memory. 
 Byron is right ; a brilliant imagination is rarely, 
 if ever, accompanied by a warm heart ; but on 
 this latter depends the happiness of life ; the 
 other renders us dissatisfied with its ordinarv 
 
 J 
 
 enjoyments. 
 
 He is an extraordinary person, indiscreet to a 
 degree that is surprising, exposing his own feel- 
 ings, and entering into details of those of others, 
 that ought to be sacred, with a degree of frank- 
 ness as unnecessary as it is rare. Incontinence 
 of speech is his besetting sin. He is, I am per- 
 suaded, incapable of keeping any secret, however 
 it may concern his own honour or that of another; 
 and the first person with whom he found himself
 
 64 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 tete-a-tete would be made the confidant without 
 any reference to his worthiness of the confidence 
 or not. This indiscretion proceeds not from 
 malice, but, I should say, from want of delicacy 
 of mind. To this was owing the publication of 
 his c< Farewell," addressed to Lady Byron a 
 farewell that must have lost all effect as an 
 appeal to her feelings the moment it was exposed 
 to the public nay, must have offended her 
 delicacy. 
 
 Byron spoke to-day in terms of high com- 
 mendation of Hope's " Anastasius ;" said that he 
 wept bitterly over many pages of it, and for two 
 reasons first, that he had not written it, and 
 secondly, that Hope had ; for that it was neces- 
 sary to like a man excessively to pardon his 
 writing such a book a book, as he said, excelling 
 all recent productions, as much in wit and talent, 
 as in true pathos. He added, that he would have 
 given his two most approved poems to have been 
 the author of " Anastasius."* 
 
 * Thomas Hope born about 1770; died February 3rd, 1831 
 was a wealthy man who collected works of art and patronized 
 artists. He wrote works on house-furnishing and decoration, and 
 on the costume of the ancients and the moderns. His romance, 
 entitled " Anastasius ; or, Memoirs of a Greek Writer at the Close 
 of the Eighteenth Century," appeared anonymously in 1819. It 
 was attributed to Byron, and Hope claimed the authorship. Two 
 books from his pen appeared after his death, the one being " An 
 Essay on the Origin and Prospects of Man," the other " An 
 Historical Essay on Architecture."
 
 BYRON AND THE LAKE SCHOOL 65 
 
 From " Anastasius " he wandered to the works 
 of Mr. Gait, praised the "Annals of the Parish " 
 very highly, as also " The Entail," which we had 
 lent him, and some scenes of which he said had 
 affected him very much. " The characters in 
 Mr. Gait's novels have an identity," added Byron, 
 " that reminds me of Wilkie's pictures." 
 
 As a woman, I felt proud of the homage he 
 paid to the genius of Mrs. Hemans, and as a 
 passionate admirer of her poetry, I felt flattered, 
 at finding that Lord Byron fully sympathized 
 with my admiration. He has, or at least ex- 
 presses, a strong dislike to the Lake school of 
 poets, never mentions them except in ridicule, 
 and he and I nearly quarrelled to-day because I 
 defended poor Keats.
 
 [66] 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 On the balcony Shelley Byron's eulogy on him Mary Woll- 
 stonecraft Shelley Leigh Hunt A journalistic venture, 
 "The Liberal" Absent friends-^Hobhouse Lines written 
 on hearing of Lady Byron's illness -Byron's will Sir Francis 
 Burdett An impartial friend The pride of aristocracy 
 "George Rose to George Byron " Ravenna Count Vittorio 
 Alfieri Mistaken identity Anonymous letters A stranger's 
 prayer " The beauty of holiness " Lady Cowper Lady 
 Adelaide Forbes. 
 
 ON looking out from the balcony this morn- 
 ing with Byron, I observed his countenance 
 change, and an expression of deep sadness steal 
 over it. After a few minutes' silence he pointed 
 out to me a boat anchored to the right, as the 
 one in which his friend Shelley went down, and 
 he said the sight of it made him ill. " You 
 should have known Shelley," said Byron, " 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, dis- 
 interested beyond all other men, and possessing a 
 degree of genius, joined to a simplicity, as rare as 
 is it admirable. He had formed to himself a beau
 
 BYRON'S EULOGY OF SHELLEY 67 
 
 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. I never can forget the night that his 
 poor wife rushed into my room at Pisa, with a 
 face pale as marble, and terror impressed on her 
 brow, demanding, with all the tragic impetuosity 
 of grief and alarm, where was her husband ! 
 Vain were all our efforts to calm her ; a desperate 
 sort of courage seemed to give her energy to con- 
 front the horrible truth that awaited her ; it was 
 the courage of despair. I have seen nothing in 
 tragedy on the stage so powerful, or so affecting, 
 as her appearance, and it often presents itself to 
 my memory. I knew nothing then of the 
 catastrophe, but the vividness of her terror com- 
 municated itself to me, and I feared the worst, 
 which fears were, alas ! too soon fearfully 
 
 realized. 
 
 
 
 " Mrs. Shelley is very clever indeed, it would 
 be difficult for her not to be so ; the daughter of 
 Mary Wollstonecraft and Godwin, and the wife 
 of Shelley, could be no common person."" 
 
 Byron talked to-day of Leigh Hunt, regretted 
 
 * Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley born August jOth, 1797; died 
 February 2ist, 1851 was Shelley's second wife. She wrote 
 several readable books, the one by which she is best known being 
 that continuing the weird story called " Frankenstein/'
 
 68 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 his ever having embarked in " The Liberal," and 
 said that it had drawn a nest of hornets on him ; 
 but expressed a very good opinion of the talents 
 and principle of Mr. Hunt, though, as he said, 
 " our tastes are so opposite, that we are totally 
 unsuited to each other. He admires the Lakers, 
 I abhor them ; in short, we are more formed to 
 be friends at a distance, than near." I can per- 
 ceive that he wishes Mr. Hunt and his family 
 away. It appears to me that Byron is a person 
 who, without reflection, would form engagements 
 which, when condemned by his friends or ad- 
 visers, he would gladly get out of without con- 
 sidering the means, or, at least, without reflecting 
 on the humiliation such a desertion must inflict 
 on the persons he had associated with him. He 
 gives me the idea of a man, who, feeling him- 
 self in such a dilemma, would become cold 
 and ungracious to the parties with whom he so 
 stood, before he had mental courage sufficient to 
 abandon them. I may be wrong, but the whole 
 of his manner of talking of Mr. Hunt gives me 
 this impression, though he has not said what 
 might be called an unkind word of him. 
 
 Much as Byron has braved public opinion, it is 
 evident he has a great deference for those who 
 stand high in it, and that he is shy in attaching 
 himself publicly to persons who have even, how- 
 ever undeservedly, fallen under its censure. His
 
 expressed contempt and defiance of the world 
 reminds me of the bravadoes of children, who, 
 afraid of darkness, make a noise to give them- 
 selves courage to support what they dread. It is 
 very evident that he is partial to aristocratic 
 friends ; he dwells with complacency on the ad- 
 vantages of rank and station, and has more than 
 once boasted that people of family are always to 
 be recognised by a certain air, and the smallness 
 and delicacy of their hands. 
 
 He talked in terms of high commendation of 
 the talents and acquirements of Mr. Hobhouse ; 
 but a latent sentiment of pique was visible in his 
 manner, from the idea he appeared to entertain 
 that Mr. Hobhouse had undervalued him. Byron 
 evidently likes praise : this is a weakness, if weak- 
 ness it be, that he partakes in common with man- 
 kind in general ; but he does not seem aware that 
 a great compliment is implied in the very act 
 of telling a man his faults for the friend who 
 undertakes this disagreeable office must give him 
 whom he censures credit for many good qualities, 
 as well as no ordinary portion of candour and 
 temper, to suppose him capable of hearing their 
 recapitulation of his failings. Byron is, after all, 
 a spoiled child, and, the severe lessons he has met 
 with being disproportioned to the errors that 
 called them forth, has made him view the faults 
 of the civilized world through a false medium ; a
 
 70 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 sort of discoloured magnifying-glass, while his 
 own are gazed at through a concave lens. All 
 that Byron has told me of the frankness and 
 unbending honesty of Mr. Hobhouse's character 
 has given me a most favourable impression of that 
 gentleman. 
 
 Byron gave me to-day a MS. copy of verses, 
 addressed to Lady Byron, on reading in a news- 
 paper that she had been ill. How different is the 
 feeling that pervades them from that of the letter 
 addressed to her which he has given me ! a 
 lurking tenderness, suppressed by a pride that 
 was doubtful of the reception it might meet, is 
 evident in one, while bitterness, uncompromising 
 bitterness, marks the other. Neither was written 
 but with deep feelings of pain, and should be 
 judged as the outpourings of a wounded spirit, 
 demanding pity more than anger. I subjoin the 
 verses, though not without some reluctance. But 
 while to the public they are of such value that 
 any reasons for their suppression ought to be 
 extremely strong, so, on the other hand, I trust, 
 they cannot hurt either the feelings of her to 
 whom they are addressed, or the memory of him 
 by whom they are written : to her, because the 
 very bitterness of reproach proves that uncon- 
 querable affection which cannot but heal the 
 wound it causes ; to him, because who, in the 
 shattered feelings they betray, will not acknow-
 
 LINES ON LADY BYRON'S ILLNESS 71 
 
 ledge the grief that hurries into error, and (may 
 we add in charity !) atones for it ? 
 
 ''LINES ON HEARING THAT LADY BYRON WAS ILL. 
 
 " And thou Avert sad yet I was not with thee ; 
 And thou wert sick, and yet I was not near ; 
 Methought that joy and health alone could be 
 Where I was not and pain and sorrow here ! 
 And is it thus ? it is as I foretold, 
 And shall be more so : for the mind recoils 
 Upon itself, and the wreck'd heart lies cold, 
 While heaviness collects the shatterd spoils. 
 It is not in the storm nor in the strife 
 We feel benumb'd, and wish to be no more, 
 But in the after-silence on the shore, 
 When all is lost, except a little life. 
 
 " I am too well avenged ! but 'twas my right ; 
 Whate'er my sins might be, thou wert not sent 
 To be the Nemesis who should requite 
 Nor did Heaven choose so near an instrument. 
 
 " Mercy is for the merciful ! if thou 
 Hast been of such, 'twill be accorded now. 
 Thy nights are banish'd from the realms of sleep '.- 
 Yes ! they may flatter thee. but thou shalt feel 
 A hollow agony which will not heal, 
 For thou art pillow'd on a curse too deep ; 
 Thou hast sown in my sorrow, and must reap 
 The bitter harvest in a woe as real 1 
 I have had many foes, but none like thee ; 
 For 'gainst the rest myself I could defend, 
 And be avenged, or turn them into friend : 
 But thou in safe implacability 
 
 Hadst nought to dread in thy own weakness shielded, 
 And in my love, which hath but too much yielded, 
 And spared, for thy sake, some I should not spare
 
 72 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 And thus upon the world trust in thy truth 
 
 And the wild fame of my ungovern'd youth 
 
 On things that were not, and on things that are 
 
 Even upon such a basis hast thou built 
 
 A monument, whose cement hath been guilt ! 
 
 The moral Clytemnestra of thy lord, 
 
 And hew'd down, with an unsuspected sword, 
 
 Fame, peace, and hope and all the better life 
 
 Which, but for this cold treason of thy heart, 
 
 Might still have risen from out the grave of strife, 
 
 And found a nobler duty than to part. 
 
 But of thy virtues didst thou make a vice, 
 
 Trafficking with them in a purpose cold, 
 
 For present anger, and for future gold 
 
 And buying other's grief at any price. 
 
 And thus once enter'd into crooked ways, 
 
 The early Truth, which was thy proper praise, 
 
 Did not still walk beside thee but at times, 
 
 And with a breast unknowing its own crimes, 
 
 Deceit, averments incompatible, 
 
 Equivocations, and the thoughts which dwell 
 
 In Janus-spirits the significant eye 
 
 Which learns to lie with silence the pretext 
 
 Of Prudence, with advantages annex'd 
 
 The acquiescence in all things which tend, 
 
 No matter how, to the desired end 
 
 All found a place in thy philosophy. 
 
 The means were worthy, and the end is won 
 
 I would not do by thee as thou hast done !" 
 
 It is evident that Lady Byron occupies his 
 attention continually ; he introduces her name 
 frequently ; is fond of recurring to the brief 
 period of their living together ; dwells with com- 
 placency on her personal attractions, saying, that 
 though not regularly handsome, he liked her
 
 BYRON'S INTEREST IN HIS WIFE 73 
 
 looks. He is very inquisitive about her ; was 
 much disappointed that I had never seen her, 
 nor could give any account of her appearance at 
 present. In short, a thousand indescribable cir- 
 cumstances have left the impression on my mind 
 that she occupies much of his thoughts, and that 
 they appear to revert continually to her and his 
 child. He owned to me, that when he reflected 
 on the whole tenour of her conduct^-the refusing 
 any explanation never answering his letters, nor 
 holding out even a hope 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 ; nay, more, he blushed 
 for his own weakness in thinking so often and so 
 kindly of one who certainly showed no symptom 
 of ever bestowing a thought on him. The mystery 
 attached to Lady Byron's silence has piqued him, 
 and kept alive an interest that, even now, appears 
 as lively as if their separation was recent. There 
 is something so humiliating in the consciousness 
 that some dear object, to whom we thought our- 
 selves necessary, and who occupies much of our 
 thoughts, can forget that we exist, or at least act 
 as if she did so, that I can well excuse the bitter- 
 ness of poor Byron's feelings on this point, though 
 not the published sarcasms caused by this bitter- 
 ness ; and whatever may be the sufferings ot 
 Lady Byron, they are more than avenged by 
 what her husband feels.
 
 74 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYROX 
 
 It appears to me extraordinary, that a person 
 who has given such interesting sketches of the 
 female character as Byron has in his works, 
 should be so little au fait of judging feminine 
 feeling under certain circumstances. He is sur- 
 prised that Lady Byron has never relented since 
 his absence from England; but he forgets how 
 that absence has been filled up on his part. I 
 ventured to suggest this, and hinted that, perhaps, 
 had his conduct been irreproachable during the 
 first years of their separation, and unstained by 
 any attachment that could have widened the 
 breach between them, it is possible that Lady 
 Byron might have become reconciled to him ; 
 but that no woman of delicacy could receive or 
 answer letters written beneath the same roof that 
 sheltered some female favourite, whose presence 
 alone proved that the husband could not have 
 those feelings of propriety or affection towards 
 his absent wife, the want of which constitutes a 
 crime that all women, at least, can understand to 
 be one of those least pardonable. 
 
 How few men understand the feelings of 
 women ! Sensitive, and easily wounded as we 
 are, obliged to call up pride to support us in 
 trials that always leave fearful marks behind, 
 how often are we compelled to assume the sem- 
 blance of coldness and indifference when the 
 heart inly bleeds ; and the decent composure, put
 
 WOMAN AND HER HEART 75 
 
 on with our visiting garments to appear in public, 
 and, like them, worn for a few hours, is with 
 them laid aside ; and all the dreariness, the heart- 
 consuming cares, that women alone can know, 
 return to make us feel, that though we may 
 disguise our sufferings from others, and deck our 
 countenance with smiles, we cannot deceive our- 
 selves, and are but the more miserable from the 
 constraint we submit to ! A woman only can 
 understand a woman's heart we cannot, dare 
 not, complain sympathy is denied us, because 
 we must not lay open the wounds that excite it ; 
 and even the most legitimate feelings are too 
 sacred in female estimation to be exposed thus 
 while we nurse the grief " that lies too deep for 
 tears," and consumes alike health and peace, a 
 man may with impunity express all, nay, more 
 than he feels court and meet sympathy, while 
 his leisure hours are cheered by occupations and 
 pleasures, the latter too often such as ought to 
 prove how little he stood in need of compassion, 
 except for his vices. 
 
 I stated something of this to Lord Byron to- 
 day, apropos to the difference between his position 
 and that of his wife. He tried to prove to me 
 how much more painful was his situation than 
 hers ; but I effected some alteration in his opinion 
 when I had fairly placed their relative positions 
 before him at least such as they appeared to
 
 76 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 me. I represented Lady Byron to him separating 
 in early youth, whether from just or mistaken 
 motives for such a step, from the husband of her 
 choice, after little more than a brief year's union, 
 and immediately after that union had been 
 cemented by the endearing, strengthening tie of 
 a new-born infant ; carrying with her into soli- 
 tude this fond and powerful remembrancer of its 
 father, how much must it have cost her to resist 
 the appeals of such a pleader ! wearing away 
 her youth in almost monastic seclusion, her 
 motives questioned by some, and appreciated by 
 few seeking consolation alone in the discharge 
 of her duties, and avoiding all external demon- 
 strations of a grief that her pale cheek and solitary 
 existence are such powerful vouchers for ! Such 
 is the portrait I gave him of Lady Byron his 
 own I ventured to sketch as follows. 
 
 I did not enter into the causes, or motives, of 
 the separation, because I know them not, but I 
 dwelt on his subsequent conduct : the appealing 
 on the separation to public sympathy, by the 
 publication of verses which ought only to have 
 met the eye of her to whom they were addressed, 
 was in itself an outrage to that delicacy, that 
 shrinks from, and shuns publicity, so inherent 
 in the female heart. He leaves England the 
 climate, modes, and customs of which had never 
 been congenial to his taste to seek beneath the
 
 A COMPARISON OF SITUATIONS 77 
 
 sunny skies of Italy, and among all the soul- 
 exciting objects that classic land can offer, a 
 consolation for domestic disappointment. How 
 soon were the broken ties of conjugal affection 
 replaced by less holy ones ! I refer not to his 
 attachment to the Countess Guiccioli, because at 
 least it is of a different and a more pure nature, 
 but to those degrading liaisons which marked 
 the first year or two of his residence in Italy, and 
 must ever from their revolting coarseness remain 
 a stain on his fame. It may be urged that dis- 
 appointment and sorrow drove him into such 
 excesses ; but admitting this, surely we must 
 respect the grief that is borne in solitude, and 
 with the most irreproachable delicacy of conduct, 
 more than that which flies to gross sensualities for 
 relief. 
 
 Such was the substance and, I believe, nearly 
 the words I repeated to him to-day ; and it is but 
 justice to him to say that they seemed to make a 
 deep impression. He said that if my portrait of 
 Lady Byron's position was indeed a faithful one, 
 she was much more to be pitied than he ; that he 
 felt deeply for her, but that he had never viewed 
 their relative situations in the same light before ; 
 he had always considered her as governed wholly 
 by pride. 
 
 I urged that my statement was drawn from 
 facts ; that, of the extreme privacy and seclusion
 
 78 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 ot her life ever since the separation, there could 
 be no doubt, and this alone vouched for the feel- 
 ings that led to it. 
 
 He seemed pleased and gratified by the reflec- 
 tions I had made, insensibly fell into a tone of 
 tenderness in speaking of Lady Byron, and pressed 
 my hand with more than usual cordiality. On 
 bidding me good-bye, his parting words were, 
 " You probe old and half-healed wounds, but 
 though you give pain, you excite a more healthy 
 action and do good." 
 
 His heart yearns to see his child ; all children 
 of the same age remind him of her, and he loves 
 to recur to the subject. 
 
 Poor Byron has hitherto been so continually 
 occupied with dwelling on and analyzing his 
 own feelings, that he has not reflected on those 
 of his wife. He cannot understand her observing 
 such a total silence on their position, because he 
 could not and cannot resist making it the topic of 
 conversation with even chance associates : this, 
 which an impartial observer of her conduct would 
 attribute to deep feelings, and a sense of delicacy, 
 he concludes to be caused by pride and want of 
 feeling. We are always prone to judge of others 
 by ourselves, which is one of the reasons why 
 our judgments are in general so erroneous. Man 
 may be judged by his species en masse, but he 
 who would judge of mankind in the aggregate,
 
 BYRON'S WILL 79 
 
 from one specimen of the genus, must be often in 
 error, and this is Byron's case. 
 
 Lord Byron told me to-day that he had been 
 occupied in the morning making his will ; that 
 he had left the bulk of his fortune to his sister, as, 
 his daughter having in right of her mother a 
 large fortune, he thought it unnecessary to in- 
 crease it ; he added that he had left the Countess 
 Guiccioli 10,000, and had intended to have left 
 her 25,000 ; but that she had suspected his in- 
 tentions, and urged him so strongly not to do so, 
 or indeed to leave her anything, that he had 
 changed the sum to 10,000. He said that this 
 was one of innumerable instances of her delicacy 
 and disinterestedness, of which he had repeated 
 proofs ; that she was so fearful of the possibility 
 of having interested motives attributed to her, 
 that he was certain she would prefer the most 
 extreme poverty to incurring such a suspicion. T 
 observed that were I he, I would have left her the 
 sum I had originally intended, as, in case of his 
 death, it would be a flattering proof of his esteem 
 for her, and she had always the power of refusing 
 the whole or any part of the bequest she thought 
 proper. It appeared to me that the more deli- 
 cacy and disinterestedness she displayed, the more 
 decided ought he to be in marking his appreciation 
 of her conduct. He appeared to agree with me, 
 and passed many encomiums on the Countess.
 
 8o CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 He talked to-day of Sir Francis Burdett, of 
 whose public and private character he entertains 
 the most exalted opinion.* He said that it was 
 gratifying to behold in him the rare union of a 
 heart and head that left nothing to be desired, 
 and dwelt with evident pride and pleasure on the 
 mental courage displayed by Sir Francis in be- 
 friending and supporting him, when so many of 
 his professed friends stood aloof, on his separation 
 from Lady Byron. The defalcation of his friends 
 at the moment he most required them has made 
 an indelible impression on his mind, and has 
 given him a very bad opinion of his countrymen. 
 I endeavoured to reason him out of this by 
 urging the principle that mankind en masse are 
 everywhere the same ; but he denied this on the 
 plea that, as civilization had arrived at a greater 
 degree of perfection in England than elsewhere, 
 
 * Sir Francis Burdett, Bart. born January 25th, 1770; died 
 January 23rd, 1844 was noted in early life for marrying the 
 youngest daughter of Mr. Coutts, for the intensity of his Radicalism, 
 and for his capacity as a public speaker. He was imprisoned in 
 the Tower in 1819 by the House of Commons for breach of 
 privilege; he was prosecuted by the Government in 1820 for 
 denouncing the " Peterloo Massacre," and sentenced to three 
 months' imprisonment and a fine of ^2,000 ; his name was 
 struck out of the Commission of the Peace. At the age of sixty- 
 five, and after representing Westminster as a Radical for many 
 years, he was returned for Wiltshire as a Tory. He was a man of 
 education, and he was highly respected even by those who disliked 
 his political opinions and conduct.
 
 AN " UN PARTIAL" FRIEND Si 
 
 selfishness, its concomitant, there flourished so 
 luxuriantly, as to overgrow all generous and kind 
 feelings. He quoted various examples of friends, 
 and even the nearest relations, deserting each 
 other in the hour of need, fearful that any part of 
 the censure heaped on some less fortunate con- 
 nexion might fall on them. 
 
 I am unwilling to believe that his pictures are 
 not overdrawn, and hope I shall always think 
 so 
 
 " Where ignorance is bliss, 'tis folly to be wise." 
 
 " Talking of friends," said Byron, " Mr. Hob- 
 house has been the most impartial, or perhaps " 
 (added he) " impartial, of all my friends ; he 
 always told me my faults', but I must do him the 
 justice to add that he told them to me, and not to 
 others." I observed that the epithet impartial 
 was the applicable one ; but he denied it, saying 
 that Mr. Hobhouse must have been unpartial to 
 have discerned all the errors he had pointed out ; 
 " but," he added, laughing, " I could have told 
 him of some more which he had not discovered ; 
 for even then avarice had made itself strongly 
 felt in my nature." 
 
 Byron came to see us to-day, and appeared 
 extremely discomposed. After half- an -hour's 
 conversation on indifferent subjects, he at length 
 broke forth with, " Only fancy my receiving to- 
 
 6
 
 82 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 day a tragedy dedicated as follows : c From 
 George [Rose ?] to George Byron !' This is 
 being cool with a vengeance. I never was more 
 provoked. How stupid, how ignorant to pass 
 over my rank ! I am determined not to read the 
 tragedy ; for a man capable of committing such 
 a solecism in good breeding and common decency 
 can write nothing worthy of being read." We 
 were astonished at witnessing the annoyance this 
 circumstance gave him, and more than ever con- 
 vinced that the pride of aristocracy is one of the 
 peculiar features of his character. If he some- 
 times forgets his rank, he never can forgive any- 
 one else's doing so ; and as he is not naturally 
 dignified, and his propensity to flippancy renders 
 him still less so, he often finds himself in a false 
 position by endeavouring to recover lost ground. 
 
 We endeavoured to console him by telling him 
 that we knew Mr. George [Rose ?] a little, and 
 that he was clever and agreeable, as also that his 
 passing over the title of Byron was meant as a 
 compliment ; it was a delicate preference shown 
 to the renown accorded to George Byron the 
 poet over the rank and title, which were adven- 
 titious advantages ennobled by the possessor, but 
 that could add nothing to his fame. All our 
 arguments were vain ; he said, " This could not 
 be the man's feelings, as he reduced him (Lord 
 Byron) to the same level as himself." It is
 
 THE PRIDE OF ARISTOCRACY 83 
 
 strange to see a person of such brilliant and 
 powerful genius sullied by such incongruities. 
 Were he but sensible how much the Lord is over- 
 looked in the Poef, he would be less vain of his 
 rank ; but as it is, this vanity is very prominent, 
 and resembles more the pride of a parvenu than 
 the calm dignity of an ancient aristocrat. It is 
 also evident that he attaches importance to the 
 appendages of rank and station. The trappings 
 of luxury, to which a short use accustoms every- 
 one, seem to please him ; he observes, nay, com- 
 ments upon them, and oh ! mortifying conclusion, 
 appears, at least for the moment, to think more 
 highly of their possessors. As his own mode of 
 life is so extremely simple, this seems the more 
 extraordinary ; but everything in him is contra- 
 dictory and extraordinary. Of his friends he 
 remarks, " This or that person is a man of family, 
 or he is a parvenu, the marks of which character, 
 in spite of all his affected gentility, break out in a 
 thousand ways." We were not prepared for this ; 
 we expected to meet a man more disposed to 
 respect the nobility of genius than that of rank ; 
 but we have found the reverse. 
 
 In talking of Ravenna, the natal residence of 
 the Countess Guiccioli, he dwells with peculiar 
 complacency on the equipage of her husband ; 
 talks of the six black carriage-horses, without 
 which the old Count seldom moved, and their
 
 84 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 spacious palazzo ; also the wealth of the Count 
 and the distinguished connexions of the lady. 
 He describes the Countess as being of the middle 
 stature, finely formed, exquisitely fair, her features 
 perfectly regular, and the expression of her coun- 
 tenance remarkable for its animation and sweet- 
 ness, her hair auburn and of great beauty. No 
 wonder, then, that such rare charms have had 
 power to fix his truant heart ; and, as he says that 
 to these she unites accomplishments and amia- 
 bility, it may be concluded, as indeed he declares, 
 that this is his last attachment. He frequently 
 talks of Alfieri, and always with enthusiastic 
 
 J 
 
 admiration.* He remarks on the similarity of 
 their tastes and pursuits, their domesticating 
 themselves with women of rank, their fondness 
 for animals, and, above all, for horses ; their 
 liking to be surrounded by birds and pets of 
 various descriptions ; their passionate love of 
 liberty, habitual gloom, etc., etc. In short, he 
 produces so many points of resemblance, that it 
 leads one to suspect that he is a copy of an 
 original he has long studied. 
 
 * Count Vittorio Alfieri born January iyth, 1741 ; died 
 October 8th, 1803 is one of the most noteworthy among modern 
 Italian poets. His tragedies are deservedly admired. The Countess 
 of Albany, widow of Charles Stuart, the Young Pretender, lived 
 with him ; and when she died twenty years after him, her remains 
 were placed at her request by the side of his in the Church of 
 Santa Croce in Florence.
 
 MISTAKEN IDENTITY 85 
 
 This, again, proceeds from a want of self- 
 respect ; but we may well pardon it, when we 
 reflect on the abuse, calumny, envy, hatred, and 
 malice, that, in spite of all his genius, have pur- 
 sued him from the country that genius must 
 adorn. 
 
 Talking of Alfieri, he told me to-day that 
 when that poet was travelling in Italy, a very 
 romantic, and, as he called her, tete montee Italian 
 Principessa, or Duchessa, who had long been an 
 enthusiastic admirer of his works, having heard 
 that he was to pass within fifty miles of her 
 residence, set off to encounter him ; and having 
 arrived at the inn where he sojourned, was shown 
 into a room where she was told Alfieri was 
 writing. She enters, agitated and fatigued sees 
 a very good-looking man seated at a table, whom 
 she concludes must be Alfieri throws herself 
 into his arms and, in broken words, declares her 
 admiration, and the distance she has come to 
 declare it. In the midst of the lady's impas- 
 sioned speeches, Alfieri enters the room, casts a 
 glance of surprise and hauteur at the pair, and 
 lets fall some expression that discloses to the 
 humbled Principessa the shocking mistake she 
 has made. 
 
 The poor Secretary (for such he was) is blamed 
 by the )ady, while he declares his innocence, 
 finding himself, as he says, in the embraces of a
 
 86 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 lady who never allowed him even a moment to 
 interrupt her, by the simple question of what 
 she meant ! Alfieri retired in offended dignity, 
 shocked that .anyone could be mistaken for him, 
 while the Principessa had to retrace her steps, 
 her enthusiasm somewhat cooled by the mistake 
 and its consequences. 
 
 Byron says that the number of anonymous 
 amatory letters and portraits he has received, and 
 all from English ladies, would fill a large volume. 
 He says he has never noticed any of them ; but it 
 is evident he recurs to them with complacency. 
 
 He talked to-day of a very different kind of 
 letter, which appears to have made a profound 
 impression on him ; he has promised to show it 
 to me ; it is from a Mr. Sheppard, inclosing him 
 a prayer offered up for Byron, by the wife of Mr. 
 Sheppard, and sent since her death. He says he 
 never was more touched than on perusing it, and 
 that it has given him a better opinion of human 
 nature. 
 
 The following is the copy of the letter and 
 prayer which Lord Byron has permitted me to 
 make : 
 
 "TO LORD BYRON. 
 
 " Frome, Somerset, 
 
 "November 2ist, 1821. 
 " MY LORD, 
 
 " More than two years since, a lovely and beloved wife was 
 taken from me, by lingering disease, after a very short union. She
 
 A STRANGER'S PRAYER 87 
 
 possessed unvarying gentleness and fortitude, and a piety so retiring 
 as rarely to disclose itself in words, but so influential as to produce 
 uniform benevolence of conduct. In the last hour of life, after a 
 farewell look on a lately-born and only infant, for whom she had 
 evinced inexpressible affection, her last whispers were, ' God's 
 happiness ! God's happiness !' 
 
 '' Since the second anniversary of her decease, I have read 
 some papers which no one had seen during her life, and which 
 contain her most secret thoughts. I am induced to communicate 
 to your Lordship a passage from these papers, which there is no 
 doubt refers to yourself, as I have more than once heard the writer 
 mention your agility on the rocks at Hastings. 
 
 " ' Oh, my God, I take encouragement from the assurance of 
 Thy Word, to pray to Thee in behalf of one for whom I have 
 lately been much interested. May the person to whom I allude 
 (and who is now, we fear, as much distinguished for his neglect 
 of Thee as for the transcendent talents Thou hast bestowed on 
 him) be awakened to a sense of his own danger, and led to seek 
 that peace of mind in a proper sense of religion which he has 
 found this world's enjoyment unable to procure ! Do Thou grant 
 that his future example may be productive of far more extensive 
 benefit than his past conduct and writings have been of evil ; and 
 may the Sun of Righteousness, which we trust will, at some future 
 period, arise on him, be bright in proportion to the darkness of 
 those clouds which guilt has raised around him, and the balm 
 which it bestows, healing and soothing in proportion to the keen- 
 ness of that agony which the punishment of his vices has inflicted 
 on him ! May the hope that the sincerity of my own efforts for 
 the attainment of holiness and the approval of my own love to 
 the Great Author of religion, will render this prayer, and every 
 other for the welfare of mankind, more efficacious cheer me in 
 the path of duty ; but, let me not forget, that while we are per- 
 mitted to animate ourselves to exertion by every innocent motive, 
 these are but the lesser streams which may serve to increase the 
 current, but which, deprived of the grand fountain of good (a 
 deep conviction of inborn sin, and firm belief in the efficacy of 
 Christ's death for the salvation of those who trust in Him, and
 
 88 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 really wish to serve Him), would soon dry up, and leave us barren 
 of every virtue as before. Hastings, July -$\st, 1814.' 
 
 " There is nothing, my Lord, in this extract which, in a literary 
 sense, can at all interest you ; but it may, perhaps, appear to you 
 worthy of reflection how deep and expansive a concern for the 
 happiness of others the Christian faith can awaken in the midst 
 of youth and prosperity. Here is nothing poetical and splendid, 
 as in the expostulatory homage of M. De Lamartine ; but here is 
 the sublime, my Lord ; for this intercession was offered, on your 
 account, to the supreme Source of happiness. It sprang from a 
 faith more confirmed than that of the French poet, and from a 
 charity which, in combination with faith, showed its power un- 
 impaired amidst the languors and pains of approaching dissolu- 
 tion. I will hope that a prayer, which, I am sure, was deeply 
 sincere, may not always be unavailing. 
 
 " It would add nothing, my Lord, to the fame with which your 
 genius has surrounded you, for an unknown and obscure individual 
 to express his admiration of it. I had rather be numbered with 
 those who wish and pray that 'wisdom from above,' and 'peace,' 
 and 'joy,' may enter such a mind. 
 
 "JOHN SHEPPAKD." 
 
 On reading this letter and prayer, which Byron 
 did aloud, before he consigned it to me to copy, 
 and with a voice tremulous from emotion, and a 
 seriousness of aspect that showed how deeply it 
 affected him, he observed, " Before I had read 
 this prayer, I never rightly understood the ex- 
 pression, so often used, ' The beauty of holiness.' 
 This prayer and letter have done more to give 
 me a good opinion of religion and its professors, 
 than all the religious books I ever read in my 
 life.
 
 BYRON ON PROFESSORS OF RELIGION 
 
 " Here were two most amiable and exalted 
 minds offering prayers and wishes for the salva- 
 tion of one considered by three parts of his 
 countrymen to be beyond the pale of hope, and 
 charitably doomed to everlasting torments. The 
 religion that prays and hopes for the erring is the 
 true religion, and the only one that could make a 
 convert of me; and I date (continued Byron) my 
 first impressions against religion to having wit- 
 nessed how little its votaries were actuated by 
 any true feeling of Christian charity. Instead of 
 lamenting the disbelief, or pitying the transgres- 
 sions (or at least their consequences) of the sinner, 
 they at once cast him off, dwell with acrimony on 
 his errors, and, not content with foredooming him 
 to eternal punishment hereafter, endeavour, as 
 much as they can, to render his earthly existence 
 as painful as possible, until they have hardened 
 him in his errors, and added hatred of his species 
 to their number. Were all religious people like 
 Mr. Sheppard and the amiable wife he has lost, 
 we should have fewer sceptics : such examples 
 would do more towards the work of conversion 
 than all that ever was written on the subject. 
 
 " When Religion supports the sufferer in afflic- 
 tion and sickness, even unto death, its advantages 
 are so visible that all must wish to seek such a 
 consolation ; and when it speaks peace and hope 
 to those who have strayed from its path, it softens
 
 90 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 feelings that severity must have hardened, and 
 leads back the wanderer to the fold ; but when it 
 clothes itself in anger; denouncing vengeance, or 
 shows itself in the pride of superior righteous- 
 ness, condemning, rather than pitying, all erring 
 brothers, it repels the wavering, and fixes the 
 unrepentant in their sins. Such a religion can 
 make few converts, but may make many dis- 
 senters, to its tenets ; for in religion, as in every- 
 thing else, its utility must be apparent, to 
 encourage people to adopt its precepts ; and the 
 utility is never so evident as when we see pro- 
 fessors of religion supported by its consolations, 
 and willing to extend these consolations to those 
 who have still more need of them the misguided 
 and the erring." 
 
 Those who accuse Byron of being an unbe- 
 liever are wrong : he is sceptical^ but not unbe- 
 lieving ; and it appears not unlikely to me that 
 a time may come when his wavering faith in 
 many of the tenets of religion may be as firmly 
 fixed as is now his conviction of the immortality 
 of the soul a conviction that he declares every 
 fine and noble impulse of his nature renders more 
 decided. He is a sworn foe to Materialism, 
 tracing every defect to which we are subject, to 
 the infirmities entailed on us by the prison of 
 clay in which the heavenly spark is confined. 
 Conscience, he says, is to him another proof of the
 
 BYRON NOT AN UNBELIEVER 91 
 
 Divine Origin of Man, as is also his natural 
 tendency to the love of good. A fine day, a 
 moonlight night, or any other fine object in the 
 phenomena of nature, excites (said Byron) strong 
 feelings of religion in all elevated minds, and an 
 outpouring of the spirit to the Creator, that, call 
 it what we may, is the essence of innate love and 
 gratitude to the Divinity. 
 
 There is a seriousness in Byron's manner when 
 he gets warmed by his subject, that impresses 
 one with the truth of his statements. He 
 observed to me, " I seldom talk of religion, but I 
 feel it, perhaps, more than those who do. I speak 
 to you on this topic freely, because I know you 
 will neither laugh at, nor enter into a controversy 
 with me. It is strange, but true, that Mrs. 
 Sheppard is mixed up with all my religious 
 aspirations : nothing ever so excited my imagina- 
 tion and touched my heart as her prayer. I 
 have pictured her to myself a thousand times in 
 the solitude of her chamber, struck by a malady 
 that generally engrosses all feelings for self, and 
 those near and dear to one, thinking of, and 
 praying for me, who was deemed by all an out- 
 cast. Her purity her blameless life and the 
 deep humility expressed in her prayer render 
 her, in my mind, the most interesting and angelic 
 creature that ever existed, and she mingles in all 
 my thoughts of a future state. I would give
 
 92 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 anything to have her portrait, though perhaps it 
 would destroy the beau ideal I have formed of 
 her. 
 
 " What strange thoughts pass through the mind, 
 and how much are we influenced by adventitious 
 circumstances ! The phrase lovely ', in the letter 
 of Mr. Sheppard, has invested the memory of his 
 wife with a double interest ; but beauty and 
 goodness have always been associated in my 
 mind, because, through life, I have found them 
 generally go together. I do not talk of mere 
 beauty (continued Byron) of feature or com- 
 plexion, but of expression, that looking out of 
 the soul through the eyes, which, in my opinion, 
 constitutes true beauty. Women have been 
 pointed out to me as beautiful who never could 
 have interested my feelings, from their want of 
 countenance, or expression, which means counte- 
 nance ; and others, who were little remarked, 
 have struck me as being captivating, from the 
 force of countenance. A woman's face ought to 
 be like an April day susceptible of change and 
 variety ; but sunshine should often gleam over 
 it, to replace the clouds and showers that may 
 obscure its lustre which, poetical description 
 apart (said Byron), in sober prose means, that 
 good-humoured smiles ought to be ready to chase 
 away the expression of pensiveness or care that 
 sentiment or earthly ills call forth. Women were
 
 LADY COW PER 93 
 
 meant to be the exciters of all that is finest in our 
 natures, and the soothers of all that is turbulent 
 and harsh. Of what use, then, can a handsome 
 automaton be, after one has got acquainted with 
 a face that knows no change, though it causes 
 many ? This is a style of looks I could not bear 
 the sight of for a week ; and yet such are the 
 looks that pass in society for pretty, handsome, 
 and beautiful. 
 
 " How beautiful Lady C[owper ?] was ! She 
 had no great variety of expression, but the pre- 
 dominant ones were purity, calmness, and abstrac- 
 tion. She looked as if she had never caused an 
 unhallowed sentiment, or felt one a sort of 
 ' moonbeam on the snow,' as our friend Moore 
 would describe her, that was lovely to look on. 
 Lady Adelaide Forbes was also very handsome. 
 It is melancholy to talk of women in the past 
 tense. What a pity, that of all flowers, none fade 
 so soon as beauty ! Poor Lady Adelaide Forbes 
 has not got married. Do you know, I once had 
 some thoughts of her as a wife ; not that I was 
 in love, as people call it, but I had argued myself 
 into a belief that I ought to marry, and meeting 
 her very often in society, the notion came into 
 my head, not heart, that she would suit me.* 
 
 * In a letter to Moore, dated July i3th, 1813, Byron wrote: 
 " Do you know, Moore, I am amazingly inclined remember, I 
 say but inclined to be seriously enamoured with Lady A. Forbes."
 
 94 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 Moore, too, told me so much of her good 
 qualities, all which was, I believe, quite true, 
 that I felt tempted to propose to her, but did not, 
 whether tant mieux or tant pis, God knows, sup- 
 posing my proposal accepted. 
 
 " No marriage could have turned out more 
 unfortunately than the one I made that is quite 
 certain ; and, to add to my agreeable reflections 
 on this subject, I have the consciousness that had 
 I possessed sufficient command over my own 
 wayward humour, I might have rendered myself 
 so dear and necessary to Lady Byron, that she 
 would not, could not, have left me. It is cer- 
 tainly not very gratifying to my vanity to have 
 been plante after so short a union, and within a 
 few weeks after being made a father a circum- 
 stance that one would suppose likely to cement 
 the attachment. I always get out of temper 
 when I recur to this subject ; and yet, malgre 
 I find myself continually recurring to it." 
 
 And on May i2th, 1817, he wrote to him : "The Apollo Belvidere 
 is the image of Lady Adelaide Forbes I think I never saw such 
 a likeness."
 
 [95 ] 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 A chameleon Difficulty in describing Byron John Kemble A 
 gazing multitude Byron's fondness for flowers His candour 
 A parody Luttrell His " Advice to Julia " What Moore 
 was meant for The evanescence of genius Byron's dread 
 of ridicule Inherited bad temper " The Deformed Trans- 
 formed" Reminiscence Byron's sensitiveness regarding his 
 lameness His desultory reading Count Pietro Gamba 
 " The Age of Bronze " An anonymous author Byron's love 
 of mystification. 
 
 BYRON is a perfect chameleon, possessing the 
 fabulous quality attributed to that animal, of 
 taking the colour of whatever touches him. He 
 is conscious of this, and says it is owing to the 
 extreme mobilite of his nature, which yields to 
 present impressions. 
 
 It appears to me, that the consciousness of his 
 own defects renders him still less tolerant to those 
 of others this perhaps is owing to their attempts 
 to conceal them, more than from natural severity, 
 as he condemns hypocrisy more than any other 
 vice saying it is the origin of all. It vanity, 
 selfishness, or mundane sentiments, are brought in 
 contact with him, every arrow in the armoury of
 
 96 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 ridicule is let fly, and there is no shield sufficiently 
 powerful to withstand them. If vice approaches, 
 he assails it with the bitterest gall of satire ; but 
 when goodness appears, and he is assured that it 
 is sincere, all the dormant affections of his nature 
 are excited, and it is impossible not to observe, 
 how tender and affectionate a heart his must have 
 been, ere circumstances had soured it. This was 
 never more displayed than in the impression 
 made on him by the prayer of Mrs. Sheppard, 
 and the letter of her husband. It is also evident 
 in the generous impulses that he betrays on 
 hearing of distress or misfortune, which he 
 endeavours to alleviate ; and, unlike the world 
 in general, Byron never makes light of the griefs 
 of others, but shows commiseration and kindness. 
 There are days when he excites so strong an 
 interest and sympathy, by showing such un- 
 doubted proofs of good feeling, that every pre- 
 vious impression to his disadvantage fades away, 
 and one is vexed with one's self for ever having 
 harboured them. But, alas ! " the morrow comes," 
 and he is no longer the same being. Some dis- 
 agreeable letter, review, or new example of the 
 slanders with which he has been for years assailed, 
 changes the whole current of his feelings 
 renders him reckless, sardonic, and as unlike the 
 Byron of the day before, as if they had nothing 
 in common nay, he seems determined to efface
 
 DIFFICULTY IN DESCRIBING BYRON 97 
 
 any good impression he might have made, and 
 appears angry with himself for having yielded to 
 the kindly feelings that gave birth to it. After 
 such exhibitions, one feels perplexed what opinion 
 to form of him ; and the individual who has an 
 opportunity of seeing Byron very often, and for 
 any length of time, if he or she stated the daily 
 impressions candidly, would find, on reviewing 
 them, a mass of heterogeneous evidence, from 
 which it would be most difficult to draw a just 
 conclusion. The affectionate manner in which 
 he fpeaks of some of his juvenile companions has 
 a delicacy and tenderness resembling the nature 
 of woman more than that of man, and leads me 
 to think that an extreme sensitiveness, checked 
 by coming in contact with persons incapable of 
 appreciating it, and affections chilled by finding 
 a want of sympathy, have repelled, but could not 
 eradicate, the seeds of goodness that now often 
 send forth blossoms, and, with culture, may yet 
 produce precious fruit. 
 
 I am sure, that if ten individuals undertook 
 the task of describing Byron, no two, of the ten, 
 would agree in their verdict respecting him, or 
 convey any portrait that resembled the other, 
 and yet the description of each might be correct, 
 according to his or her received opinion ; but the 
 truth is, the chameleon-like character or manner 
 of Byron renders it difficult to portray him ; and 
 
 7
 
 98 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 the pleasure he seems to take in misleading his 
 associates in their estimate of him increases the 
 difficulty of the task. This extraordinary fancy 
 of his has so often struck me, that I expect to see 
 all the persons who have lived with him giving 
 portraits, each unlike the other, and yet all 
 bearing a resemblance to the original at some one 
 time. Like the pictures given of some celebrated 
 actor in his different characters, each likeness is 
 affected by the dress and the part he has to fill. 
 The portrait of John Kemble in Cato resembles 
 not Macbeth nor Hamlet, and yet each is an 
 accurate likeness of that admirable actor in those 
 characters ; so Byron, changing every day, and 
 fond of misleading those who he suspects might 
 be inclined to paint him, will always appear 
 different from the hand of each limner. 
 
 During our rides in the vicinity of Genoa, we 
 frequently met several persons, almost all of 
 them English, who evidently had taken that 
 route purposely to see Lord Byron. " Which is 
 he ?" " That's he," I have frequently heard 
 whispered as the different groups extended their 
 heads to gaze at him, while he has turned to me 
 his pale face assuming, for the moment, a warmer 
 tint and said, " How very disagreeable it is to 
 be so stared at ! If you knew how I detest it, 
 you would feel how great must be my desire 
 to enjoy the society of my friends at the Hotel
 
 BYRON'S FONDNESS FOR FLOWERS 99 
 
 de la Ville, when I pay the price of passing 
 through the town, and exposing myself to the 
 gazing multitude on the stairs and in the ante- 
 chambers." 
 
 Yet there were days when he seemed more 
 pleased than displeased at being followed and 
 stared at. All depended on the humour he was 
 in. When gay, he attributed the attention he 
 excited to the true cause admiration of his 
 genius ; but when in a less good-natured humour, 
 he looked on it as an impertinent curiosity, caused 
 by the scandalous histories circulated against him, 
 and resented it as such. 
 
 He was peculiarly fond of flowers, and gene- 
 rally bought a large bouquet every day from a 
 gardener whose grounds we passed. He told me 
 that he liked to have them in his room, though 
 they excited melancholy feelings, by reminding 
 him of the evanescence of all that is beautiful, 
 but that the melancholy was of a softer, milder 
 character, than his general feelings. 
 
 Observing Byron one day in more than usually 
 low spirits, I asked him if anything painful had 
 occurred. He sighed deeply, and said : " No, 
 nothing new ; the old wounds are still unhealed, 
 and bleed afresh on the slightest touch, so 
 that God knows there needs nothing new. 
 Can I reflect on my present position with- 
 out bitter feelings ? Exiled from my country
 
 ioo CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 by a species of ostracism the most humili- 
 ating 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 (as I call what you would kindly 
 name fame) 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 one who will not live with me, 
 and live with one to whom I cannot give a legal 
 right to be my companion, and who, wanting 
 that right, is placed in a position humiliating to 
 her and most painful to me. 
 
 " Were the Countess Guiccioli and I married, 
 we should, I am sure, be cited as an example 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 attached herself. She 
 is fond of retirement is of a most affectionate 
 disposition and noble-minded and disinterested 
 to the highest degree. Judge, then, how morti- 
 fying 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
 
 BYRON'S CANDOUR 101 
 
 passion is replaced by better feelings those of 
 affection, friendship, and confidence when, in 
 short, the liaison has all of marriage but its forms, 
 then it is that we wish to give it the respect- 
 ability of wedlock. It is painful (said Byron) to 
 find one's self growing old without 
 
 " ' That which should accompany old age, 
 As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends.' 
 
 I feel this keenly, reckless as I appear, though 
 there are few to whom I would avow it, and cer- 
 tainly not to a man." 
 
 " With all my faults," said Byron one day, 
 " and they are, as you will readily believe, innu- 
 merable, I have never traduced the only two 
 women with whom I was ever domesticated, 
 Lady Byron and the Countess Guiccioli. Though 
 I have had, God knows, reason to complain of 
 Lady Byron's leaving me, and all that her de- 
 sertion entailed, I defy malice itself to prove 
 that I ever spoke against her ; on the contrary, I 
 have always given her credit for the many ex- 
 cellent and amiable qualities she possesses, or at 
 least possessed, when I knew her ; and I have 
 only to regret that forgiveness for real or ima- 
 gined wrongs was not amongst their number. 
 Of the Guiccioli, I could not, if I would, speak 
 ill ; her conduct towards me has been faultless, 
 and there are few examples of such complete
 
 102 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 and disinterested affection as she has shown to- 
 wards me all through our attachment." 
 
 I observed in Lord Byron a candour in talking 
 of his own defects, nay, a seeming pleasure in 
 dwelling on them, that I never remarked in any 
 other person : I told him this one day, and he 
 answered, " Well, does not that give you hopes 
 of my amendment ?" My reply was, " No ; I 
 fear, by continually recapitulating them, you 
 will get so accustomed to their existence as to 
 conquer your disgust of them. You remind me 
 of Belcour, in the ' West Indian,' when he ex- 
 claims, ' No one sins with more repentance, or 
 repents with less amendment than I do.' "* He 
 laughed, and said, " Well, only wait, and you 
 will see me one day become all that I ought to 
 be ; I am determined to /eave my sins, and not 
 wait until they leave me : I have reflected 
 seriously on all my faults, and that is the first 
 step towards amendment. Nay, I have made 
 more progress than people give me credit for ; 
 but, the truth is, I have such a detestation of 
 cant, and am so fearful of being suspected of 
 yielding to its outcry, that I make myself appear 
 rather worse than better than I am." 
 
 * The passage occurs in Richard Cumberland's "West Indian," 
 which was first acted at Drury Lane Theatre in 1771, and runs 
 thus : " Sure no man sins with so much repentance, or repents 
 with so little amendment, as I do." Act III., scene. 3.
 
 AN ABSTRACT SUBJECT 103 
 
 " You will believe me, what I sometimes be- 
 lieve myself, mad," said Byron one day, " when 
 I tell you that I seem to have two states of 
 existence, one purely contemplative, during which 
 the crimes, faults, and follies of mankind are 
 laid open to my view (my own forming a pro- 
 minent object in the picture), and the other 
 acttve, when I play my part in the drama of 
 life, as if impelled by some power over which 
 I have no control, though the consciousness of 
 doing wrong remains. It is as though I had 
 the faculty of discovering error, without the 
 power of avoidirjg|it. How do you account 
 
 f* 1 ^11 
 
 for this ? 
 
 I answered, " That, like all the phenomena of 
 thought, it was unaccountable ; but that con- 
 templation, when too much indulged, often pro- 
 duced the same effect on the mental faculties that 
 the dwelling on bodily ailments effected in the 
 physical powers --we might become so well 
 acquainted with diseases, as to find all their 
 symptoms in ourselves and others, without the 
 power of preventing or curing them ; nay, by 
 the force of imagination, might end in the belief 
 that we were afflicted with them to such a degree 
 as to lose all enjoyment of life, which state is 
 termed hypochondria ; but the hypochondria 
 which arises from the belief in mental diseases is 
 still more insupportable, and is increased by con-
 
 104 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 templation of the supposed crimes or faults, so 
 that the mind should be often relaxed from 
 its extreme tension, and other and less exciting 
 subjects of reflection presented to it. Excess 
 in thinking, like all other excesses, produces 
 reaction, and add the two words ' too much ' 
 before the word thinking, in the two lines of 
 the admirable parody of the brothers Smith 
 
 " ' Thinking is but an idle waste of thought, 
 
 And nought is every thing, and every thing is nought ;' 
 
 and, instead of parody, it becomes true philo- 
 sophy." 
 
 We both laughed at the abstract subject we 
 had fallen upon ; and Byron remarked, " How 
 few would guess the general topics that occupy 
 our conversation!" I added, " It may not, per- 
 haps, be very amusing, but at all events it is 
 better than scandal." He shook his head, and 
 said, " All subjects are good in their way, pro- 
 vided they are sufficiently diversified ; but scandal 
 has something so piquant it is a sort of cayenne 
 to the mind that I confess I like it, particularly 
 if the objects are one's particular friends." 
 
 " Of course you know Luttrell," said Lord 
 Byron. " He is a most agreeable member of 
 society, the best sayer of good things, and the 
 most epigrammatic conversationist I ever met : 
 there is a terseness, and wit, mingled with fancy,
 
 LUTTRELL' S "ADVICE TO JULIA " 105 
 
 in his observations, that no one else possesses, and 
 no one so peculiarly understands the apropos. 
 His ' Advice to Julia ' is pointed, witty, and full 
 of observation, showing in every line a knowledge 
 of society, and a tact rarely met with. Then, 
 unlike all, or most other wits, Luttrell is never 
 obtrusive ; even the choicest bans mots are only 
 brought forth when perfectly applicable, and 
 then are given in a tone of good breeding which 
 enhances their value." 3 
 
 " Moore is very sparkling in a choice or chosen 
 society (said Byron) ; with lord and lady listeners 
 he shines like a diamond, and thinks that, like 
 that precious stone, his brilliancy should be 
 
 * Writing in his Diary on August i2th, 1820, Moore says the 
 " Advice to Julia " is " full of well-bred facetiousness and sparkle 
 of the very first water." Luttrell said many clever things, and he 
 made a most mistaken forecast of the Duke of Wellington. When 
 the latter was a captain, he said to himself, as he told Moore, 
 " Well, let who will get on in this world, you certainly will not." 
 The following are two fair specimens of his verses. In the first 
 he neatly compliments Ellen Tree, then very young, and who 
 became Mrs. Charles Kean in 1842 : 
 
 " On this Tree if a nightingale settles and sings, 
 This Tree will return her as good as she brings." 
 
 The second is an epitaph on a man who had been run over by an 
 omnibus : 
 
 " Killed by an omnibus why not ? 
 
 So quick a death a boon is. 
 Let not his friends lament his lot, 
 Mors omnibus comtnunis"
 
 io6 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 reserved pour le beau monde. Moore has a happy 
 disposition, his temper is good, and he has a sort 
 of fire-fly imagination, always in movement, and 
 in each evolution displaying new brilliancy. He 
 has not done justice to himself in living so much 
 in society ; many of his talents are frittered away 
 in display, to support the character of * a man of 
 wit about town,' and Moore was meant for some- 
 thing better. 
 
 " Society and genius are incompatible, and the 
 latter can rarely, if ever, be in close or frequent 
 contact with the former, without degenerating : 
 it is otherwise with wit and talent, which are 
 excited and brought into play by the friction of 
 society, which polishes and sharpens both. I 
 judge from personal experience ; and as some 
 portion of genius has been attributed to me, I 
 suppose I may, without any extraordinary vanity, 
 quote my ideas on this subject. 
 
 " Well, then (continued Byron), if I have any 
 genius (which I grant is problematical), all I 
 can say is that I have always found it fade away, 
 like snow before the sun, when I have been 
 living much in the world. My ideas became 
 dispersed and vague, I lost the power of con- 
 centrating my thoughts, and became another 
 being : you will perhaps think a better, on the 
 principle that any change in me must be for the 
 better ; but no, instead of this, I became worse,
 
 THE EVANESCENCE OF GENIUS 107 
 
 for the recollection of former mental power re- 
 mained, reproaching me with present inability, 
 and increased my natural irritability. It must 
 be this consciousness of diminished power that 
 renders old people peevish, and, I suspect, 
 the peevishness will be in proportion to former 
 ability. Those who have once accustomed them- 
 selves to think and reflect deeply in solitude, will 
 soon begin to find society irksome ; the small 
 money of conversation will appear insignificant, 
 after the weighty metal of thought to which 
 they have been used, and like the man who was 
 exposed to the evils of poverty while in possession 
 of one of the largest diamonds in the world, 
 which, from its size, could find no purchaser, 
 such a man will find himself in society unable to 
 change his lofty and profound thoughts into the 
 conventional small-talk of those who surround 
 him. 
 
 " But, bless me, how I have been holding 
 forth ! (said Byron). Madame de Stae'l herself 
 never declaimed morr energetically, or succeeded 
 better in ennuyant her auditors than I have done, 
 as I perceive you look dreadfully bored. I fear 
 I am grown a sad proser, which is a bad thing, 
 more especially after having been, what I swear 
 to you I once heard a lady call me, a sad poet. 
 The whole of my tirade might have been com- 
 prised in the simple statement of my belief that
 
 loS CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYROX 
 
 genius shuns society, and that, except for the 
 indulgence of vanity, society would be well 
 disposed to return the compliment, as they have 
 little in common between them. 
 
 " Who would willingly possess genius ? None, 
 I am persuaded, who knew the misery it entails, 
 its temperament producing continual irritation, 
 destructive alike to health and happiness and 
 what are its advantages ? to be envied, hated, 
 and persecuted in life, and libelled in death. 
 Wealth may be pardoned (continued Byron) if its 
 possessor diffuses it liberally ; beauty may be 
 forgiven provided it is accompanied by folly ; 
 talent may meet with toleration if it be not of a 
 very superior order, but genius can hope for no 
 mercy. If it be of a stamp that insures its 
 currency, those who are compelled to receive 
 it will indemnify themselves by finding out a 
 thousand imperfections in the owner, and as they 
 cannot approach his elevation, will endeavour to 
 reduce him to their level by dwelling on the 
 errors from which genius is not exempt, and 
 which forms the only point of resemblance be- 
 tween them. We hear the errors of men of 
 genius continually brought forward, while those 
 that belong to mediocrity are unnoticed ; hence 
 people conclude that errors peculiarly appertain 
 to genius, and that those who boast it not are 
 saved from them. Happy delusion ! but not even
 
 THE FA TE OF GENIUS 109 
 
 this belief can induce them to commiserate the 
 faults they condemn. 
 
 " It is the fate of genius to be viewed with 
 severity instead of the indulgence that it ought to 
 meet, from the gratification it dispenses to others ; 
 as if its endowments could preserve the possessor 
 from the alloy that marks the nature of mankind. 
 Who can walk the earth, with eyes fixed on the 
 heavens, without often stumbling over the hin- 
 drances that intercept the path ? while those who 
 are intent only on the beaten road escape. Such 
 is the fate of men of genius: elevated over the 
 herd of their fellow-men, with thoughts that 
 soar above the sphere of their physical existence, 
 no wonder that they stumble when treading the 
 mazes of ordinary life, with irritated sensibility, 
 and mistaken views of all the common occur- 
 rences they encounter." 
 
 Lord Byron dined with us to-day : we all 
 observed that he was evidently discomposed : the 
 dinner and servants had no sooner disappeared, 
 than he quoted an attack against himself in some 
 newspaper as the cause. He was very much 
 irritated much more so than the subject merited 
 and showed how keenly alive he is to censure, 
 though he takes so little pains to avoid ex- 
 citing it. 
 
 This is a strange anomaly that I have observed 
 in Byron an extreme susceptibility to censorious
 
 i io CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 observations, and a want of tact in not knowing 
 how to steer clear of giving cause to them, that is 
 extraordinary. He winces under castigation, and 
 writhes in agony under the infliction of ridicule, 
 yet gives rise to attack every day. Ridicule is, 
 however, the weapon he most dreads, perhaps 
 because it is the one he wields with most power ; 
 and I observe he is sensitively alive to its slightest 
 approach. It is also the weapon with which 
 he assails all ; friend and foe alike come under 
 its cutting point ; and the laugh, which accom- 
 panies each sally, as a deadly incision is made in 
 some vulnerable quarter, so little accords with the 
 wound inflicted, that it is as though one were 
 struck down by summer lightning while admiring 
 its brilliant play. 
 
 Byron likes not contradiction : he waxed wroth 
 to-day, because I defended a friend of mine whom 
 he attacked, but ended by taking my hand, and 
 saying he honoured me for the warmth with 
 which I defended an absent friend, adding with 
 irony, " Moreover, when he is not a poet, or 
 even prose writer, by whom you can hope to be 
 repaid by being handed down to posterity as his 
 defender. 
 
 "I often think," said Byron, "that I inherit 
 my violence and bad temper from my poor 
 mother not that my father, from all I could ever 
 learn, had a much better ; so that it is no wonder
 
 INHERITED BAD TEMPER ni 
 
 I have such a very bad one. As long as I can 
 remember anything, I recollect being subject to 
 violent paroxysms of rage, so disproportioned to 
 the cause as to surprise me when they were over, 
 and this still continues. I cannot coolly view 
 anything that excites my feelings ; and once the 
 lurking devil in me is roused, I lose all command 
 of myself. I do not recover a good fit of rage 
 for days after : mind, I do not by this mean that 
 the ill-humour continues, as, on the contrary, 
 that quickly subsides, exhausted by its own 
 violence ; but it shakes me terribly, and leaves 
 me low and nervous after. Depend on it, 
 people's tempers must be corrected while they 
 are children ; for not all the good resolutions in 
 the world can enable a man to conquer habits of 
 ill-humour or rage, however he may regret 
 having given way to them. 
 
 " My poor mother was generally in a rage every 
 day, and used to render me sometimes almost 
 frantic ; particularly when, in her passion, she 
 reproached me with my personal deformity ; I 
 have left her presence to rush into solitude, where, 
 unseen, I could vent the rage and mortification I 
 endured, and curse the deformity that I now 
 began to consider as a signal mark of the injustice 
 of Providence. Those were bitter moments : 
 even now, the impression of them is vivid in 
 my mind ; and they cankered a heart that I
 
 ii2 CO^ 7 VERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 believe was naturally affectionate, and destroyed a 
 temper always disposed to be violent. It was 
 my feelings at this period that suggested the idea 
 of ' The Deformed Transformed.' I often look 
 back on the days of my childhood, and am 
 astonished at the recollection of the intensity of 
 my feelings at that period ; first impressions are 
 indelible. My poor mother, and after her my 
 schoolfellows, by their taunts, led me to consider 
 my lameness as the greatest misfortune, and I have 
 never been able to conquer this feeling. 
 
 " It requires great natural goodness of dis- 
 position, as well as reflection, to conquer the 
 corroding bitterness that deformity engenders in 
 the mind, and which, while preying on itself, 
 sours one towards all the world. I have read 
 that where personal deformity exists, it may be 
 always traced in the face, however handsome the 
 face may be. I am sure that what is meant by 
 this is that the consciousness of it gives to the 
 countenance an habitual expression of discontent, 
 which I believe is the case ; yet it is too bad 
 (added Byron with bitterness) that, because one 
 has a defective foot, one cannot have a perfect 
 face." 
 
 He indulges a morbid feeling on this subject 
 that is extraordinary, and that leads me to think 
 it has had a powerful effect in forming his 
 character. As Byron had said that his own
 
 "THE DEFORMED TRANSFORMED" 113 
 
 position had led to his writing " The Deformed 
 Transformed," I ventured to remind him that, 
 in the advertisement to that drama, he had stated 
 it to have been founded on the novel of " The 
 Three Brothers." He said that both statements 
 were correct, and then changed the subject 
 without giving me an opportunity of questioning 
 him on the unacknowledged, but visible, resem- 
 blances between other of his works and that 
 extraordinary production. It is possible that he 
 is unconscious of the plagiary of ideas he has 
 committed, for his reading is so desultory that 
 he seizes thoughts which, in passing through the 
 glowing alembic of his mind, become so embel- 
 lished as to lose all identity with the original 
 crude embryos he had adopted. This was proved 
 to me in another instance, when a book that he 
 was constantly in the habit of looking over fell 
 into my hands, and I traced various passages 
 marked by his pencil or by his notes, which gave 
 me the idea of having led to certain trains of 
 thought in his works. He told me that he 
 rarely ever read a page that did not give rise to 
 chains of thought, the first idea serving as the 
 original link on which the others were formed 
 
 " Awake but one, and, lo ! what myriads rise !" 
 
 I have observed that, in conversation, some 
 trifling remark has often led him into long dis- 
 
 8
 
 H4 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 quisitions, evidently elicited by it ; and so prolific 
 is his imagination, that the slightest spark can 
 warm it. 
 
 Count Pietro Gamba * lent me the " Age of 
 Bronze," with a request that his having done 
 so should be kept a profound secret, as Lord 
 Byron, he said, would be angry if he knew it. 
 This is another instance of the love of mystifica- 
 tion that marks Byron, in trifles as well as in 
 things of more importance. What can be the 
 motive for concealing a published book that is in 
 the hands of all England? 
 
 * The brother of Countess Guiccioli.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Napoleon His lack of sympathy The brothers Smith The 
 " Rejected Addresses " " Cui Bono " Byron's marvellous 
 memory His love of solitude An enormous inkstand A 
 giant shaving himself The sublime and the ridiculous A 
 hoax The mad Earl of Portsmouth Cant in America- 
 The American navy John Wilson Croker Bryan Waller 
 Procter ("Barry Cornwall") Byron on marriage- Benjamin 
 Constant An antidote to Madame de StaeTs " Corinne " 
 -The advantages of blindness and the inutility of 
 beauty. 
 
 BYRON talks often of Napoleon, of whom he 
 is a reat admirer, and says that what he most 
 
 O J 
 
 likes in his character is his want of sympathy, 
 which proved his knowledge of human nature, as 
 those only could possess sympathy who were in 
 happy ignorance of it. I told him that this 
 carried its own punishment with it, as Napoleon 
 found the want of sympathy when he most 
 required it, and that some portion of what he 
 affected to despise, namely, enthusiasm and 
 sympathy, would have saved him from the de- 
 gradations he twice underwent when deserted 
 by those on whom he counted. Not all Byron's
 
 n6 CONl'ERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 expressed contempt for mankind can induce me 
 to believe that he has the feeling ; this is one of 
 the many little artifices which he condescends to 
 make use of to excite surprise in his hearers, and 
 can only impose on the credulous. 
 
 He is vexed when he discovers that any of his 
 little ruses have not succeeded, and is like a 
 spoiled child who finds out he cannot have 
 everything his own way. Were he but sensible 
 of his own powers, how infinitely superior would 
 he be, for he would see the uselessness, as well 
 as unworthiness, of being artificial, and of acting 
 to support the character he wishes to play, a 
 misanthrope, which nature never intended him 
 for, and which he is not and never will be. I 
 see a thousand instances of good feeling in Byron, 
 but rarely a single proof of stability ; his abuse 
 of friends, which is continual, has always ap- 
 peared to me more inconsistent than ill-natured, 
 and as if indulged in more to prove that he was 
 superior to the partiality friendship engenders, 
 than that they were unworthy of exciting the 
 sentiment. He has the rage of displaying his 
 knowledge of human nature, and thinks this 
 knowledge more proved by pointing out the 
 blemishes than the perfections of the subjects he 
 anatomizes. Were he to confide in the effect 
 his own natural character would produce, how 
 much more would he be loved and respected ;
 
 BYRON'S LOVE OF MYSTIFICATION 117 
 
 whereas, at present, those who most admire the 
 genius will be the most disappointed in the man. 
 
 The love of mystification is so strong in Byron, 
 that he is continually letting drop mysterious 
 hints of events in his past life : as if to excite 
 curiosity, he assumes, on those occasions, a look 
 and air suited to the insinuation conveyed : if it has 
 excited the curiosity of his hearers, he is satisfied, 
 looks still more mysterious, and changes the sub- 
 ject; but if it fails to rouse curiosity, he becomes evi- 
 dently discomposed and sulky, stealing sly glances 
 at the person he has been endeavouring to mystify, 
 to observe the effect he has produced. On such 
 occasions I have looked at him a little maliciously, 
 and laughed, without asking a single question ; and 
 I have often succeeded in making him laugh too 
 at those mystifications, manquee as I called them. 
 
 Byron often talks of the authors of the 
 " Rejected Addresses," and always in terms of 
 unqualified praise.* He says that the imitations, 
 
 : The authors of the " Rejected Addresses " were James Smith 
 born February loth, 1775; died December 24th, 1839 and 
 Horace, his brother born December 3ist, 1779 ; died July i2th, 
 1849. James wrote the first stanza of "Cui Bono," and Horace 
 the rest ; the second and third run as follows : 
 
 ii. 
 
 " Ye reckless dupes, who hither wend your way 
 To gaze on puppets in a painted dome, 
 Pursuing pastimes glittering to betray, 
 Like falling stars in life's eternal gloom,
 
 Ii8 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 unlike all other imitations, are full of genius, and 
 that the " Cui Bono " has some lines that he 
 should wish to have written. " Parodies," he 
 said, " always gave a bad impression of the 
 original, but in the ' Rejected Addresses ' the 
 reverse was the fact ;" and he quoted the second 
 and third stanzas, in imitation of himself, as 
 admirable, and just what he could have wished 
 to write on a similar subject. His memory is 
 extraordinary, for he can repeat lines from every 
 author whose works have pleased him ; and in 
 reciting the passages that have called forth his 
 censure or ridicule, it is no less tenacious. He 
 remarked on the pleasure he felt at meeting 
 people with whom he could go over old subjects 
 of interest, whether on persons or literature, and 
 
 What seek ye here ? Joy's evanescent bloom ? 
 Woe's me ! the brightest wreaths she ever gave 
 Are but as flowers that decorate a tomb. 
 Man's heart, the mournful urn o'er which they wave, 
 Is sacred to despair, its pedestal the grave. 
 
 in. 
 
 " Has life so little store of real woes, 
 That here ye wend to taste fictitious grief? 
 Or is it that from truth such anguish flows, 
 Ye court the lying drama for relief? 
 Long shall ye find the pang, the respite brief : 
 Or if one tolerable page appears 
 In folly's volume, 'tis the actor's leaf 
 Who dries his own by drawing other's tears, 
 And raising present mirth, makes glad his future years."
 
 THE SUBLIME AND THE R1OICULOUS u 9 
 
 said that nothing cemented friendship or com- 
 panionship so strongly as having read the same 
 books and known the same people. 
 
 I observed that when, in our rides, we came 
 io any fine point of view, Byron paused, and 
 looked at it, as if to impress himself with the 
 recollection of it. He rarely praised what so 
 evidently pleased him, and he became silent and 
 abstracted for some time after, as if he was noting 
 the principal features of the scene on the tablet 
 of his memory. He told me that, from his 
 earliest youth, he had a passion for solitude ; that 
 the sea, whether in a storm or calm, was a source 
 of deep interest to him, and filled his mind with 
 thoughts. " An acquaintance of mine," said 
 Byron, laughing, " who is a votary of the Lake, 
 or simple school, and to whom I once expressed 
 this effect of the sea on me, said that I might 
 in this case say that the ocean served me as a 
 vast inkstand : what do you think of that as a 
 poetical image ? It reminds me of a man who, 
 talking of the effect of Mont Blanc from a distant 
 mountain, said that it reminded him of a giant 
 at his toilet, the feet in water, and the face 
 prepared for the operation of shaving. Such 
 observations prove that from the sublime to the 
 ridiculous there is only one step, and really make 
 one disgusted with the simple school." 
 
 Recurring to fine scenery, Byron remarked,
 
 120 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 " That as artists filled their sketch-books with 
 studies from Nature, to be made use of on after- 
 occasions, so he laid up a collection of images in 
 his mind, as a store to draw on when he required 
 them, and he found the pictures much more 
 vivid in recollection, when he had not exhausted 
 his admiration in expressions, but concentrated 
 his powers in fixing them in memory." The end 
 and aim of his life is to render himself cele- 
 brated : hitherto his pen has been the instrument 
 to cut his road to renown, and it has traced a 
 brilliant path ; this, he thinks, has lost some of 
 its point, and he is about to change it for the 
 sword, to carve a new road to fame. 
 
 Military exploits occupy much of his conver- 
 sation, and still more of his attention ; but even 
 on this subject there is never the slightest elan, 
 and it appears extraordinary to see a man about 
 to engage in a chivalrous and, according to the 
 opinion of many, a Utopian undertaking, for 
 which his habits peculiarly unfit him, without 
 any indication of the enthusiasm that leads men to 
 embark in such careers. Perhaps he thinks with 
 Napoleon, that " II n'y a rien qui refroidit, 
 comme 1'enthousiasme des autres "; but he is 
 wrong : coldness has in general a sympathetic 
 effect, and we are less disposed to share the feel- 
 ings of others, if we observe that those feelings 
 are not a > warm as the occasion seems to require.
 
 BYRON'S DELICATE HEALTH 121 
 
 There is something so exciting in the idea of 
 the greatest poet of his day sacrificing his fortune, 
 his occupations, his enjoyments in short, offering 
 up on the altar of liberty all the immense ad- 
 vantages which station, fortune, and genius can 
 bestow, that it is impossible to reflect on it with- 
 out admiration ; but when one hears this same 
 person calmly talk of the worthlessness of the 
 people he proposes to make those sacrifices for, 
 the loans he means to advance, the uniforms he 
 intends to wear, entering into petty details, and 
 always with perfect sang froid, one's admiration 
 evaporates, and the action loses all its charms, 
 though the real merit of it still remains. Per- 
 haps Byron wishes to show that his going to 
 Greece is more an affair of principle than feeling, 
 and as such more entitled to respect, though, per- 
 haps, less likely to excite warmer feelings. How- 
 ever this may be, his whole manner and conver- 
 sation on the subject are calculated to chill the 
 admiration such an enterprize ought to create, and 
 to reduce it to a more ordinary standard. 
 
 Byron is evidently in delicate health, brought 
 on by starvation, and a mind too powerful for the 
 frame in which it is lodged. He is obstinate in 
 resisting the advice of medical men and his 
 friends, who all have represented to him the 
 dangerous effects likely to ensue from his present 
 system. He declares that he has no choice but
 
 122 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 that of sacrificing the body to the mind, as that 
 when he eats as others do he gets ill, and loses 
 all power over his intellectual faculties ; that 
 animal food engenders the appetite of the animal 
 fed upon ; and he instances the manner in which 
 boxers are fed as a proof, while, on the contrary, 
 a regimen of fish and vegetables served to support 
 existence without pampering it. I affected to 
 think that his excellency in and fondness of 
 swimming arose from his continually living on 
 fish, and he appeared disposed to admit the 
 possibility, until, being no longer able to support 
 my gravity, I laughed aloud, which for the first 
 minute discomposed him, though he ended by 
 joining heartily in the laugh, and said : " Well, 
 Miladi, after this hoax never accuse me any more 
 of mystifying ; you did take me in until you 
 laughed." 
 
 Nothing gratifies him so much as being told 
 that he grows thin. This fancy of his is pushed 
 to an almost childish extent, and he frequently 
 asks, " Don't you think I get thinner ?" or, 
 " Did you ever see any person so thin as I am 
 who was not ill ?" He says he is sure no one 
 could recognize him were he to go to England at 
 present, and seems to enjoy this thought very 
 much. 
 
 Byron affects a perfect indifference to the 
 opinion of the world, yet is more influenced by it
 
 THE MAD EARL OF PORTSMOUTH 123 
 
 than most people not in his conduct, but in his 
 dread of and wincing under its censures. He 
 was extremely agitated by his name being intro- 
 duced in the Portsmouth trial,* as having assisted 
 in making up the match, and showed a degree of 
 irritation that proves he is as susceptible as ever 
 to newspaper attacks, notwithstanding his boasts 
 of the contrary. The susceptibility will always 
 leave him at the mercy of all who may choose to 
 write against him, however insignificant they 
 may be. 
 
 I noticed Byron one day more than usually 
 
 * On February 28th, 1823, John Charles, third Earl of Ports- 
 mouth, was declared by a jury to be " a man of unsound mind 
 and condition, and incapable of managing himself and his affairs, 
 and that he was so from January ist, 1809." He was married on 
 March yth, 1814, to Mary Anne, the eldest daughter of Mr. 
 Hanson, solicitor to Byron, and Byron gave away the bride. Why 
 he should have done so while the bride's father was alive and 
 present is a puzzle of which the possible solution is that the fact of 
 Byron being a peer was regarded as entitling him to the post of 
 honour. His annoyance concerning the newspapers appears to 
 have been caused by an article in the Journal des Debats, 
 stating that Byron had formerly been intimately acquainted with 
 the Countess. Writing on the subject, he says : " I beg leave to 
 decline the liaison, which is quite untrue : my liaison was with the 
 father in the unsentimental shape of long lawyer's bills, through 
 the medium of which I have had to pay him ten or twelve 
 thousand pounds within these few years." Byron adds : " I could 
 not foresee that a man was to turn out mad who had gone about 
 the world for fifty years as competent to vote and walk at large ; 
 nor did he seem to me more insane than any other person going 
 to be married."
 
 124 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 irritable, though he endeavoured to suppress all 
 symptoms of it. After various sarcasms on the 
 cant and hypocrisy of the times, which was 
 always the signal that he was suffering from some 
 attack made on him, he burst forth in violent in- 
 vectives against America, and said that she now 
 rivalled her mother country in cant, as he had 
 that morning read an article of abuse, copied 
 from an American newspaper, alluding to a report 
 that he was going to reside there. We had seen 
 the article, and hoped that it might have escaped 
 his notice ; but unfortunately he had perused it, 
 and its effects on his temper were visible for 
 several days after. He said that he was never 
 sincere in his praises of the Americans, and that 
 he only extolled their navy to pique Mr. Croker.* 
 There was something so childish in this avowal, 
 that there was no keeping a serious face on hear- 
 ing it ; and Byron smiled himself like a petulant 
 spoiled child, who acknowledges having done 
 something to spite a playfellow. 
 
 Byron is a great admirer of the poetry of Barry 
 
 * John Wilson Croker born December 2oth, 1780; died 
 August loth, 1857 was Secretary to the Admiralty for many 
 years ; he sat in Parliament till the passing of the Reform Bill in 
 1832 ; he was a frequent contributor to the Quarterly Review^ 
 and he edited several works. His edition of " Boswell's Johnson " 
 was attacked by Macaulay in the Edinburgh ; while he attacked 
 the two first volumes of Macaulay's " History of England " in 
 the Quarterly.
 
 BYRON OA' MARRIAGE 
 
 Cornwall,* which, he says, is full of imagination 
 and beauty, possessing a refinement and delicacy, 
 that, whilst they add all the charms of a woman's 
 mind, take off none of the force of a man's. He 
 expressed his hope that he would devote himself 
 to tragedy, saying that he was sure he would 
 become one of the first writers of the day. 
 
 Talking of marriage, Byron said that there was 
 no real happiness out of its pale. " If people 
 like each other so well," said he, " as not to be 
 able to live asunder, this is the only tie that can 
 ensure happiness all others entail misery. I 
 put religion and morals out of the question, 
 though of course the misery will be increased 
 tenfold by the influence of both ; but, admitting 
 persons to have neither (and many such are by 
 the good-natured world supposed to exist), still 
 liaisons^ that are not cemented by marriage, must 
 produce unhappiness, when there is refinement of 
 mind, and that honourable fierte which accom- 
 panies it. The humiliations and vexations a 
 woman under such circumstances is exposed to 
 cannot fail to have a certain effect on her temper 
 
 * This is the name under which Bryan Waller Procter wrote. 
 He was born November 2ist, 1787, and died October 4th, 1874. 
 He had produced four volumes of poems at the time Byron con- 
 versed with Lady Blessington ; his " English Songs," which ap- 
 peared in 1832, are more valued than his other verses. He wrote 
 memoirs of Kean and Charles Lamb. He was called to the Bar 
 in 1831, and he was a Metropolitan Commissioner of Lunacy from 
 1832 to 1861. He was the father of Adelaide Anne Procter.
 
 126 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 and spirits, which robs her of the charms that 
 won affection ; it renders her susceptible and sus- 
 picious ; her self-esteem being diminished, she 
 becomes doubly jealous of that of him for whom 
 she lost it, and on whom she depends ; and if he 
 has feeling to conciliate her, he must submit to a 
 slavery much more severe than that of marriage, 
 without its respectability. 
 
 " Women become exigeante always in propor- 
 tion to their consciousness of a decrease in the 
 attentions they desire, and this very exigeance 
 accelerates the flight of the blind god, whose 
 approaches, the Greek proverb says, are always 
 made walking, but whose retreat is flying. I 
 once wrote some lines expressive of my feelings 
 on this subject, and you shall have them." He 
 had no sooner repeated the first line than I recol- 
 lected having the verses in my possession, having 
 been allowed to copy them by Mr. D. Kinnaird 
 the day he received them from Lord Byron. The 
 following are the verses : 
 
 "COMPOSED DECEMBER IST, 1819. 
 
 " Could Love for ever 
 Run like a river, 
 And Time's endeavour 
 
 Be tried in vain ; 
 No other pleasure 
 With this could measure ; 
 And as a treasure 
 
 We'd hug the chain.
 
 BYRON'S BAD VERSES 127 
 
 But since our sighing 
 Ends not in dying, 
 And, formed for flying, 
 
 Love plumes his wing ; 
 Then, for this reason, 
 Let's love a season ; 
 But let that season be only Spring. 
 
 >l When lovers parted 
 Feel broken-hearted. 
 And, all hopes thwarted, 
 
 Expect to die ; 
 A few years older, 
 Ah ! how much colder 
 They might behold her 
 
 For whom they sigh. 
 When link'd together, 
 Through every weather, 
 We pluck Love's feather 
 
 From out his wing, 
 He'll sadly shiver, 
 And droop for ever, 
 Without the plumage that sped his spring. 
 
 Shorn of the plumage which sped his spring.] 
 
 Like Chiefs of Faction 
 His life is action, 
 A formal paction, 
 
 Which curbs his reign, 
 Obscures his glory, 
 Despot no more, he 
 Such territory 
 
 Quits with disdain.
 
 128 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 Still, still advancing, 
 With banners glancing, 
 His power enhancing, 
 He must march on : 
 Repose but cloys him, 
 Retreat destroys him ; 
 Love brooks not a degraded throne ! 
 
 " Wait not, fond lover ! 
 Till years are over, 
 And then recover 
 
 As from a dream ; 
 While each bewailing 
 The other's failing, 
 With wrath and railing 
 
 All hideous seem ; 
 While first decreasing, 
 Yet not quite ceasing, 
 Pause not till teazing 
 
 All passion blight : 
 If once diminish'd, 
 His reign is finish'd, 
 One last embrace then, and bid good-night ! 
 
 " So shall Affection 
 To recollection 
 The dear connexion 
 
 Bring back with joy ; 
 You have not waited 
 Till, tired and hated, 
 All passion sated, 
 
 Began to cloy. 
 Your last embraces 
 Leave no cold traces, 
 The same fond faces 
 
 As through the past ; 
 And eyes, the mirrors 
 Of your sweet errors, 
 Reflect but rapture : not least, though last !
 
 BYRON'S BAD VERSES 129 
 
 "True separations 
 Ask more than patience ; 
 What desperations 
 
 From such have risen ! 
 And yet remaining 
 What is't but chaining 
 Hearts which, once waning, 
 
 Beat 'gainst their prison ? 
 Time can but cloy love, 
 And use destroy love : 
 The winged boy, Love, 
 
 Is but for boys ; 
 You'll find it torture, 
 Though sharper, shorter, 
 To wean, and not wear out your joys/' 
 
 They are so unworthy the author, that they 
 are merely given as proof that the greatest genius 
 can sometimes write bad verses ; as even Homer 
 nods. I remarked to Byron, that the sentiment 
 of the poem differed with that which he had 
 just given me of marriage : he laughed, and said, 
 " Recollect, the lines were written nearly four 
 years ago ; and we grow wiser as we grow older : 
 but mind, I still say, that I only approve mar- 
 riage when the persons are so much attached as 
 not to be able to live asunder, which ought 
 always to be tried by a year's absence before the 
 irrevocable knot is formed. The truest picture 
 of the misery unhallowed liaisons produce," said 
 Byron, " is in the * Adolphe ' of Benjamin Con- 
 stant.* I told Madame de Stael that there was 
 
 * Benjamin Constant de Rebecque, born October i5th, 1767, 
 died December 10, 1830, was a Swiss by birth and a Frenchman 
 
 9
 
 J3 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 more morale in that book than in all she ever 
 wrote ; and that it ought always to be given to 
 every young woman who had read * Corinne,' as 
 an antidote. 
 
 " Poor De Stael ! she came down upon me 
 like an avalanche, whenever I told her any of 
 my amiable truths, sweeping everything before 
 her, with that eloquence which always over- 
 whelmed, but never convinced. She however, 
 good soul, believed she had convinced, whenever 
 she silenced an opponent ; an effect she generally 
 produced, as she, to use an Irish phrase, succeeded 
 in bothering, and producing a confusion of ideas 
 that left one little able or willing to continue an 
 argument with her. I liked her daughter very 
 much," said Byron : " I wonder will she turn 
 out literary ? at all events, though she may not 
 write, she possesses the power of judging the 
 writings of others ; is highly educated and 
 clever ; but I thought a little given to systems, 
 which is not in general the fault of young women, 
 and, above all, young French women."* 
 
 by naturalization. He achieved fame as a Parliamentary orator. 
 Among his many writings, his work of " Adolphe " is now the best 
 known, and it has always been the most admired. It is supposed 
 to contain particulars of his own life. He was one of Madame 
 de Stae'Ps special favourites, and she was thought to be the heroine 
 of the romance ; but, according to M. de Lomerie, the lady who 
 figures under the name of Eleonore was Mrs. Lindsey. 
 
 * Madame de Stael, born April 22nd, 1766, died July i4th, 
 1817, was the most brilliant Frenchwoman of her time. Her
 
 INSANE ANGER 131 
 
 One day that Byron dined with us, his chas- 
 seur, while we were at table, demanded to speak 
 with him : he left the room, and returned in a 
 few minutes in a state of violent agitation, pale 
 with anger, and looking as I had never before 
 seen him look, though I had often seen him 
 angry. He told us that his servant had come to 
 tell him that he must pass the gate of Genoa (his 
 house being outside the town) before half-past ten 
 o'clock, as orders were given that no one was to 
 be allowed to pass after. This order, which had 
 no personal reference to him, he conceived to be 
 expressly levelled at him, and it rendered him 
 furious : he seized a pen, and commenced a letter 
 to our minister, tore two or three letters one 
 after the other, before he had written one to his 
 satisfaction ; and, in short, betrayed such un- 
 governable rage, as to astonish all who were 
 present : he seemed very much disposed to enter 
 into a personal contest with the authorities ; and 
 we had some difficulty in persuading him to leave 
 the business wholly in the hands of Mr. Hill, 
 the English Minister, who would arrange it much 
 better. 
 
 Byron's appearance and conduct, on this occa- 
 sion, forcibly reminded me of the description 
 given of Rousseau : he declared himself the victim 
 
 daughter Alhertine, who did not " turn out literary," became the 
 wife of the Due de Broglie in February, 1816.
 
 132 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 of persecution wherever he went ; said that there 
 was a confederacy between all governments to 
 pursue and molest him, and uttered a thousand 
 extravagances, which proved that he was no 
 longer master of himself. I now understood 
 how likely his manner was, under any violent 
 excitement, to give rise to the idea that he was 
 deranged in his intellects, and became convinced 
 of the truth of the sentiment in the lines 
 
 " Great wits are sure to madness near allied, 
 And thin partitions do their bounds divide." 
 
 The next day, when we met, Byron said that 
 he had received a satisfactory explanation from 
 Mr. Hill, and then asked me if I had not thought 
 him mad the night before : " I assure you," 
 said he, " I often think myself not in my right 
 senses, and this is perhaps the only opinion I have 
 in common with Lady Byron, who, dear sensible 
 soul, not only thought me mad, but tried to per- 
 suade others into the same belief." 
 
 Talking one day on the difference between 
 men's actions and thoughts, a subject to which 
 he often referred, he observed, that it frequently 
 happened that a man who was capable of superior 
 powers of reflection and reasoning when alone, 
 was trifling and common-place in society. " On 
 this point," said he, " I speak feelingly, for I 
 have remarked it of myself, and have often longed
 
 THE SOCIETY OF INFERIORS 133 
 
 to know if other people had the same defect, or 
 the same consciousness of it, which is, that while 
 in solitude my mind was occupied in serious and 
 elevated reflections, in society it sinks into a 
 trifling levity of tone, that in another would have 
 called forth my disapprobation and disgust. 
 Another defect of mine is, that I am so little 
 fastidious in the selection, or rather want ot 
 selection, of associates, that the most stupid men 
 satisfy me quite as well, nay, perhaps better than 
 the most brilliant ; and yet all the time they are 
 with me I feel, even while descending to their 
 level, that they are unworthy of me, and what is 
 worse, that we seem in point of conversation so 
 nearly on an equality, that the effort of letting 
 myself down to them costs me nothing, though 
 my pride is hurt that they do not seem more 
 sensible of the condescension. When I have 
 sought what is called good society, it was more 
 from a sense of proprietv and keeping my station 
 in the world, than from any pleasure it gave me, 
 for I have been always disappointed, even in the 
 most brilliant and clever of my acquaintances, 
 by discovering some trait of egoism, or futility, 
 that I was too egoistical and futile to pardon, as 
 I find that we are least disposed to overlook the 
 defects we are most prone to. Do you think as 
 I do on this point ?" said Byron. 
 
 I answered, " That as a clear and spotless
 
 134 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 mirror reflects the brightest images, so is good- 
 ness ever most prone to see good in others ; and 
 as a sullied mirror shows its own defects in all 
 that it reflects, so does an impure mind tinge all 
 that passes through it." Byron laughingly said, 
 " That thought of yours is pretty, and just, which 
 all pretty thoughts are not, and I shall pop it into 
 my next poem. But how do you account for this 
 tendency of mine to trifling and levity in con- 
 versation, when in solitude my mind is really 
 occupied in serious reflections ?" I answered, 
 " That this was the very cause the bow cannot 
 remain always bent ; the thoughts suggested to 
 him in society were the reaction of a mind 
 strained to its bent, and reposing itself after exer- 
 tion ; as also that feeling the inferiority of the 
 persons he mixed with, the great powers were not 
 excited, but lay dormant and supine, collecting 
 their force for solitude." This opinion pleased 
 him, and when I added that great writers were 
 rarely good talkers, and vice versa, he was still 
 more gratified. 
 
 He said that he disliked every-day topics of 
 conversation ; he thought it a waste of time ; but 
 that if he met a person with whom he could, as 
 he said, think aloud, and give utterance to his 
 thoughts on abstract subjects, he was sure it 
 would excite the energies of his mind, and 
 awaken sleeping thoughts that wanted to be
 
 "GOOD-NATURED FRIENDS" 135 
 
 stirred up. " I like to go home with a new 
 idea," said Byron ; " it sets my mind to work ; I 
 enlarge it, and it often gives birth to many others ; 
 this one can only do in a tete-a-tete. I felt the 
 advantage of this in my rides with Hoppner* at 
 Venice ; he was a good listener, and his remarks 
 were acute and original ; he is besides a thoroughly 
 good man, and I knew he was in earnest when 
 he gave me his opinions. But conversation, such 
 as one finds in society, and, above all, in English 
 society, is as uninteresting as it is artificial, and 
 few can leave the best with the consolation of 
 carrying away with him a new thought, or of 
 leaving behind him an old friend." Here he 
 laughed at his own antithesis, and added, " By 
 Jove, it is true ; you know how people abuse or 
 quiz each other in England, the moment one 
 is absent : each is afraid to go away before the 
 other, knowing that, as is said in the * School 
 for Scandal,' he leaves his character behind. It 
 is this certainty that excuses me to myself, for 
 abusing my friends and acquaintances in their 
 absence. 
 
 " I was once accused of this by an ami intime, 
 to whom some devilish good-natured person had 
 repeated what I had said of him ; I had nothing 
 for it but to plead guilty, adding, * you know 
 you have done the same by me fifty times, and 
 * The English Consul-General.
 
 136 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 yet you see I never was affronted, or liked you 
 less for it ;' on which he laughed, and we were 
 as good friends as ever. Mind you (a favourite 
 phrase of Byron's) I never heard that he had 
 ahused me, but I took it for granted, and was 
 right. So much for friends." 
 
 I remarked to Byron that his scepticism as to. 
 the sincerity and durability of friendship argued 
 very much against his capability of feeling the 
 sentiment, especially as he admitted that he had 
 not been deceived by the few he had confided in, 
 consequently his opinion must be founded on 
 j-^^-knowledge. This amused him, and he said 
 that he verily believed that his knowledge of 
 human nature, on which he had hitherto prided 
 himself, was the criterion by which I judged so 
 unfavourably of him, as he was sure I attributed 
 his bad opinion of mankind to his perfect know- 
 ledge of self. When in good spirits, he liked 
 badinage very much, and nothing seemed to 
 please him more than being considered as a 
 mauvais sujet : he disclaimed the being so with 
 an air that showed he was far from being offended 
 at the suspicion. 
 
 Of love he had strange notions : he said that 
 most people had le besoin < aimer, and that with 
 this besoin the first person who fell in one's way 
 contented one. He maintained that those who 
 possessed the most imagination poets, for
 
 LOVES OF THE POETS 137 
 
 example were most likely to be constant in 
 their attachments, as with the beau ideal in their 
 heads, with which they identified the object of 
 their attachment, they had nothing to desire, and 
 viewed their mistresses through the brilliant 
 medium of fancy, instead of the common one of 
 the eyes. " A poet, therefore," said Byron, 
 " endows the person he loves with all the charms 
 with which his mind is stored, and has no need 
 of actual beauty to fill up the picture. Hence 
 he should select a woman who is rather good- 
 looking than beautiful, leaving the latter for those 
 who, having no imagination, require actual beauty 
 to satisfy their tastes. And after all," said he, 
 " where is the actual beauty that can come up 
 to the bright * imaginings ' of the poet ? where 
 can one see women that equal the visions, half- 
 mortal, half-angelic, that people his fancy ? 
 
 " Love, who is painted blind (an allegory that 
 proves the uselessness of beauty), can supply all 
 deficiencies with his aid ; we can invest her 
 whom we admire with all the attributes of loveli- 
 ness, and though time may steal the roses from 
 her cheek, and the lustre from her eye, still the 
 original beau ideal remains, filling the mind and 
 intoxicating the soul with the overpowering 
 presence of loveliness. I flatter myself that my 
 Leila, Zuleika, Gulnare, Medora, and Haidee 
 will always vouch for my taste in beauty : these
 
 138 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 are the bright creations of my fancy, with rounded 
 forms, and delicacy of limbs, nearly so incom- 
 patible as to be rarely, if ever, united ; for where, 
 with some rare exceptions, do we see roundness 
 of contour accompanied by lightness, and those 
 fairy hands and feet that are at once the type of 
 beauty and refinement. I like to shut myself 
 up, close my eyes, and fancy one of the creatures 
 of my imagination, with taper and rose-tipped 
 fingers, playing with my hair, touching my 
 cheek, or resting its little snowy dimpled hand 
 on mine. I like to fancy the fairy foot, round 
 and pulpy, but small to diminutiveness, peeping 
 from beneath the drapery that half conceals it, or 
 moving in the mazes of the dance. I detest thin 
 women ; and unfortunately all, or nearly all plump 
 women, have clumsy hands and feet, so that I am 
 obliged to have recourse to imagination for my 
 beauties, and there I always find them. 
 
 " I can so well understand the lover leaving his 
 mistress that he might write to her, I should 
 leave mine, not to write to, but to think of her, 
 to dress her up in the habiliments of my ideal 
 beauty, investing her with all the charms of the 
 latter, and then adoring the idol I had formed. 
 You must have observed that I give my heroines 
 extreme refinement, joined to great simplicity and 
 want of education. Now, refinement and want 
 of education are incompatible, at least I have
 
 BYRON'S TWO AMBITIONS 139 
 
 ever found them so : so here again, you see, I 
 am forced to have recourse to imagination ; and 
 certainly it furnishes me with creatures as unlike 
 the sophisticated beings of civilized existence, 
 as they are to the still less tempting, coarse 
 realities of vulgar life. In short, I am of opinion 
 that poets do not require great beauty in the 
 objects of their affection ; all that is necessary 
 for them is a strong and devoted attachment 
 from the object, and where this exists, joined 
 to health and good temper, little more is re- 
 quired, at least in early youth, though with ad- 
 vancing years men become more exigeants" 
 Talking of the difference between love in early 
 youth and in maturity, Byron said, " that, like 
 the measles, love was most dangerous when it 
 came late in life." 
 
 Byron had two points of ambition, the one 
 to be thought the greatest poet of his day, and 
 the other a nobleman and man of fashion, who 
 could have arrived at distinction without the aid 
 of his poetical genius. This often produced 
 curious anomalies in his conduct and sentiments, 
 and a sort of jealousy of himself in each separate 
 character, that was highly amusing to an ob- 
 servant spectator. 
 
 If poets were talked of or eulogized, he re- 
 ferred to the advantages of rank and station as 
 commanding that place in society by right, which
 
 MO CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 was only accorded to genius by sufferance ; for, 
 said Byron, " Let authors do, say, or think what 
 they please, they are never considered as men of 
 fashion in the circles of haut ton, to which their 
 literary reputations have given them an entree, 
 unless they happen to be of high birth. How 
 many times have I observed this in London ; as 
 also the awkward efforts made by authors to trifle 
 and act the fine gentleman like the rest of the 
 herd in society. Then look at the faiblesse they 
 betray in running after great people. Lords and 
 ladies seem to possess, in their eyes, some power 
 of attraction that I never could discover ; and the 
 eagerness with which they crowd to balls and 
 assemblies, where they are as Replaces as ennuyes, 
 all conversation at such places being out of the 
 question, might lead one to think that they 
 sought the heated atmospheres of such scenes as 
 hot-beds to nurse their genius." 
 
 If men of fashion were praised, Byron dwelt on 
 the futility of their pursuits, their ignorance en 
 masse, and the necessity of talents to give lustre 
 to rank and station. In short, he seemed to think 
 that the bays of the author ought to be entwined 
 with a coronet to render either valuable, as, 
 singly, they were not sufficiently attractive ; and 
 this evidently arose from his uniting, in his own 
 person, rank and genius. I recollect once laugh- 
 ingly telling him that he was fortunate in being
 
 TRANSLATIONS OF HIS POEMS . 141 
 
 able to consider himself a poet amongst lords, 
 and a lord amongst poets. He seemed doubtful 
 as to how he should take the parody, but ended 
 by laughing also. 
 
 Byron has often laughed at some repartie or 
 joke against himself, and, after a few minutes' 
 reflection, got angry at it ; but was always soon 
 appeased by a civil apology, though it was clear 
 that he disliked anything like ridicule, as do 
 most people who are addicted to play it off 
 on others ; and he certainly delighted in quizzing 
 and ridiculing his associates. The translation 
 of his works into different languages, however 
 it might have flattered his amour propre as an 
 author, never failed to enrage him, from the 
 injustice he considered all translations rendered 
 to his works. I have seen him furious at some 
 passages in the French translation, which he 
 pointed out as proof of the impossibility of the 
 translators understanding the original, and he 
 exclaimed, " // traditore ! II traditore /" (instead 
 of // traduttore /) vowing vengeance against the 
 unhappy traducers, as he called them. He de- 
 clared that every translation he had seen of his 
 poems had so destroyed the sense, that he could 
 not understand how the French and Italians could 
 admire his works, as they professed to do. It 
 proved, he said, at how low an ebb modern 
 poetry must be in both countries. French poetry
 
 i 4 2 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 he detested, and continually ridiculed : he said it 
 was discordant to his ears. 
 
 Of his own works, with some exceptions, he 
 always spoke in derision, saying he could write 
 much better, but that he wrote to suit the false 
 taste of the day ; and that if now and then a 
 gleam of true feeling or poetry was visible in his 
 productions, it was sure to be followed by the 
 ridicule he could not suppress. Byron was not 
 sincere in this, and it was only said to excite 
 surprise, and show his superiority over the rest 
 of the world. It was the same desire of astonish- 
 ing people that led him to depreciate Shakespeare, 
 which I have frequently heard him do, though 
 from various reflections of his in conversation, 
 and the general turn of his mind, I am convinced 
 that he had not only deeply read, but deeply felt 
 the beauties of our immortal poet.
 
 [ 143] 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Byron's friends Sir John Hobhouse -William Bankes Joseph 
 Jekyll " The Tears of the Cruets " John Philpot Curran 
 An inimitable mimic An ode to memory Definitions 
 of memory One more cardinal virtue " The Pleasures of 
 Fear " Dreams -English and Italian characteristics Byron 
 as comic writer Pietro Gamba John William Ward, Lord 
 Dudley Sheridan William Arden, second Lord Alvanley 
 and successor to Beau Brummel. 
 
 I DO not recollect ever having met Byron that 
 he did not, in some way or other, introduce the 
 subject of Lady Byron. The impression left on 
 my mind was, that she continually occupied his 
 thoughts, and that he most anxiously desired a 
 reconciliation with her. He declared that his 
 marriage was free from every interested motive; 
 and if not founded on love, as love is generally 
 viewed, a wild, engrossing and ungovernable pas- 
 sion, there was quite sufficient liking in it to 
 have insured happiness had his temper been 
 better. 
 
 He said that Lady Byron's appearance had 
 pleased him from the first moment, and had 
 always continued to please him ; and that, had
 
 144 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 his pecuniary affairs been in a less ruinous state, 
 his temper would not have been excited, as it 
 daily, hourly was, during the brief period of their 
 union, by the 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 Lady Byron's affec- 
 tion. " I must admit," said he, " that I could 
 not have left a very agreeable impression on her 
 mind. With my irascible temper, worked upon 
 by the constant attacks of duns, no wonder that 
 I became gloomy, violent, and, I fear, often per- 
 sonally uncivil, if no worse, and so disgusted 
 her ; though, had she really loved me, she would 
 have borne with my infirmities, and made allow- 
 ance for my provocations. I have written to her 
 repeatedly, and am still in the habit of writing 
 long letters to her, many of which I have sent, 
 but without ever receiving an answer, and others 
 that I did not send, because I despaired of their 
 doing any good. I will show you some of them, 
 as they may serve to throw a light on my feel- 
 ings." 
 
 The next day Byron sent me the letter 
 addressed to Lady Byron, which has already 
 appeared in " Moore's Life."* He never could 
 divest himself of the idea that she took a deep 
 interest in him ; he said that their child must 
 
 * Vol. vi., p. 30, edition 1832.
 
 IV A NT OF MORAL COURAGE 
 
 always be a bond of union between them, what- 
 ever lapse of years or distance might separate 
 them ; and this idea seemed to comfort him. 
 And yet, notwithstanding the bond of union a 
 child was supposed to form between the parents, 
 he did not hesitate to state, to the gentlemen of 
 our party, his more than indifference towards the 
 mother* of his illegitimate daughter. 
 
 Byron's mental courage was much stronger in 
 his study than in society. In moments of in- 
 spiration, with his pen in his hand, he would 
 have dared public opinion, and laughed to scorn 
 the criticisms of all the litteratt> but with re- 
 flection came doubts and misgivings ; and though 
 in general he was tenacious in not changing what 
 he had once written, this tenacity proceeded 
 more from the fear of being thought to want 
 mental courage than from the existence of the 
 quality itself. This operated also on his actions 
 as well as his writings ; he was the creature of 
 impulse ; never reflected on the possible or 
 probable results of his conduct, until that conduct 
 had drawn down censure and calumny on him, 
 when he shrunk with dismay, " frightened at the 
 sounds himself had made." 
 
 * Clara Mary Jane Clairmont, step-daughter of William Godwin, 
 born April 27, 1798, died March 19, 1879. Her daughter Allegra, 
 of whom Byron was the father, was born January 12, 1817, and 
 died April 19, 1822. 
 
 10
 
 146 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 This sensitiveness was visible on all occasions, 
 and extended to all his relations with others : did 
 his friends or associates become the objects of 
 public attack, he shrunk from the association, or 
 at least from any public display of it, disclaimed 
 the existence of any particular intimacy, though 
 in secret he felt good-will to the persons. I have 
 witnessed many examples of this, and became 
 convinced that his friendship was much more 
 likely to be retained by those who stood well in 
 the world's opinion, than by those who had even 
 undeservedly forfeited it. 
 
 I once made an observation to him on this 
 point, which was elicited by something he had 
 said of persons with whom I knew he had once 
 been on terms of intimacy, and which he wished 
 to disclaim : his reply was, " What the deuce 
 good can I do them against public opinion ? I 
 shall only injure myself, and do them no service." 
 I ventured to tell him, that this was precisely the 
 system of the English whom he decried ; and 
 that self-respect, if no better feeling operated, 
 ought to make us support in adversity those whom 
 we had led to believe we felt interested in. He 
 blushed, and allowed I was right ; " though," 
 added he, " you are singular in both senses of the 
 word, in your opinion, as I have had proofs ; for 
 at the moment when I was assailed by all the 
 vituperation of the Press in England at the
 
 SUMMER FRIENDS 147 
 
 separation, a friend of mine, who had written a 
 complimentary passage to me, either by way of 
 dedication or episode (I forget which he said), 
 suppressed it on finding public opinion running 
 hard against me : he will probably produce it if 
 he finds the quicksilver of the barometer of my 
 reputation mounts to beau fixe ; while it remains, 
 as at present, at variable, it will never see the 
 light, save and except I die in Greece, with a 
 sort of demi-poetic and demi-heroic renommee 
 attached to my memory." 
 
 Whenever Byron found himself in a difficulty, 
 and the occasions were frequent, he had re- 
 course to the example of others, which induced 
 me to tell him that few people had so much pro- 
 fited by friends as he had ; they always served 
 " to point a moral and adorn a tale," being his 
 illustrations for all the errors to which human 
 nature is heir, and his apologetic examples when- 
 ever he wished to find an excuse for unpoetical 
 acts of worldly wisdom. Byron rather encou- 
 raged than discouraged such observations ; he 
 said they had novelty to recommend them, and 
 has even wilfully provoked their recurrence. 
 Whenever I gave him my opinions, and still 
 oftener when one of the party, whose sentiments 
 partook of all the chivalric honour, delicacy, 
 and generosity of the beau ideal of the poetic 
 character, expressed his, Byron used to say,
 
 148 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 " Now for a Utopian system of the good and 
 beautiful united ; Lord B. ought to have lived in 
 the heroic ages, and if all mankind would agree 
 to act as be feels and acts, I agree with you we 
 should all be certainly better, and, I do believe, 
 happier than at present ; but it would surely be 
 absurd for a few and to how few would it be 
 limited to set themselves up ' doing as they 
 would be done by,' against a million who in- 
 variably act vice versa. No ; if goodness is to 
 become a-la-mode^ and I sincerely wish it were 
 possible, we must have a fair start, and all begin 
 at the same time, otherwise it will be like ex- 
 posing a few naked unarmed men against a 
 multitude in armour." 
 
 Byron was never de bonne foi in giving such 
 opinions ; indeed, the whole of his manner be- 
 trayed this, as it was playful and full of 
 p/atsanferie, but still he wanted the accompaniment 
 of habitual acts of disinterested generosity to con- 
 vince one that his practice was better than his 
 theory. He was one of the many whose lives 
 prove how much more effect example has than 
 precept. All the elements of good were com- 
 bined in his nature, but they lay dormant for 
 want of emulation to excite their activity He 
 was the slave of his passions, and he submitted 
 not without violent, though, alas ! unsuccessful, 
 struggles to the chains they imposed ; but each
 
 " WHOM THE GODS LOVE DIE YOUNG" 149 
 
 day brought him nearer to that age when reason 
 triumphs over passion when, had life been 
 spared him, he would have subjugated those 
 unworthy tyrants, and asserted his empire over 
 that most rebellious of all dominions self. 
 
 Byron never wished to live to be old ; on the 
 contrary, I have frequently heard him express 
 the hope of dying young ; and I remember his 
 quoting Sir William Temple's opinion, that life 
 is like wine ; who would drink it pure must not 
 draw it to the dregs, as being his way of thinking 
 also. He said, it was a mistaken idea that pas- 
 sions subsided with age, as they only changed, 
 and not for the better, Avarice usurping the place 
 vacated by Love, and Suspicion filling up that of 
 Confidence. " And this," continued Byron, " is 
 what age and experience bring us. No; let me 
 not live to be old : give me youth, which is the 
 fever of reason, and not age, which is the palsy. 
 I remember my youth, when my heart over- 
 flowed with affection towards all who showed 
 any symptom of liking towards me ; and now, at 
 thirty-six, no very advanced period of life., I can 
 scarcely, by raking up the dying embers of affec- 
 tion in that same heart, excite even a temporary 
 flame to warm my chilled feelings. " 
 
 Byron mourned over the lost feelings of his 
 youth, as we regret the lost friends of the same 
 happy period ; there was something melancholy
 
 150 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 in the sentiment, and the more so, as one saw 
 that it was sincere. He often talked of death, 
 and never with dread. He said that its certainty 
 furnished a better lesson than all the philosophy 
 of the schools, as it enabled us to bear the ills 
 of life, which would be unbearable were life of 
 unlimited duration. He quoted Cowley's lines 
 
 " O Life ! thou weak-built isthmus, which doth proudly rise 
 Up betwixt two eternities !" 
 
 as an admirable description, and said they often 
 recurred to his memory.* 
 
 He never mentioned the friends of whom 
 Death had deprived him without visible emotion : 
 he loved to dwell on their merits, and talked of 
 them with a tenderness as if their deaths had 
 been recent, instead of years ago. Talking of 
 some of them, and deploring their loss, he 
 observed, with a bitter smile, " But perhaps it is 
 as well that they are gone : it is less bitter to 
 mourn their deaths than to have to regret their 
 alienation ; and who knows but that, had they 
 lived, they might have become as faithless as 
 some others that I have known. Experience has 
 
 * Moore's lines in " The Veiled Prophet of Khorassan ?> are 
 more familiar, and they may have been inspired by Cowley. Life 
 is depicted as : 
 
 " This narrow isthmus 'twixt two boundless seas, 
 The past, the future, two eternities."
 
 FRIENDS LOST AND CHANGED 151 
 
 taught me that the only friends that we can call 
 our own that can know no change are those 
 over whom the grave has closed : the seal of 
 death is the only seal of friendship. No wonder, 
 then, that we cherish the memory of those who 
 loved us, and comfort ourselves with the thought 
 that they were unchanged to the last. The 
 regret we feel at such afflictions has something 
 in it that softens our hearts, and renders us better. 
 We feel more kindly disposed to our fellow- 
 creatures, because we are satisfied with ourselves 
 first, for being able to excite affection, and, 
 secondly, for the gratitude with which we repay 
 it, to the memory ot those we have lost; but 
 the regret we prove at the alienation or unkind- 
 ness of those we trusted and loved, is so mingled 
 with bitter feelings, that they sear the heart, dry 
 up the fountain of kindness in our breasts, and 
 disgust us with human nature, by wounding our 
 self-love in its most vulnerable part -showing 
 that we have failed to excite affection where we 
 had lavished ours. One may learn to bear this 
 uncomplainingly, and with outward calm ; but 
 the impression is indelible, and he must be made 
 of different materials from the generality of men, 
 who does not become a cynic, if he become 
 nothing worse, after once suffering such a dis- 
 appointment." 
 
 I remarked that his early friends had not given
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYROX 
 
 him cause to speak feelingly on this subject, and 
 named Mr. Hobhouse* as a proof: he answered, 
 " Yes, certainly, he has remained unchanged, and 
 I believe is unchangeable ; and, if friendship, as 
 most people imagine, consists in telling one truth 
 unvarnished, unadorned truth he is indeed a 
 friend ; yet, hang it, I must be candid, and say I 
 have had many other, and more agreeable, proofs 
 of Hobhouse's friendship than the truths he 
 always told me ; but the fact is, I wanted him 
 to sugar them over a little with flattery, as 
 nurses do the physic given to children ; and he 
 never would, and therefore I have never felt 
 quite content with him, though, au fond, I re- 
 spect him the more for his candour, while I 
 respect myself very much less for my weakness 
 in disliking it. 
 
 " William Bankesf is another of my early 
 friends. He is very clever, very original, and 
 has a fund of information : he is also very good- 
 
 * Sir John Cam Hobhouse, born in 1786, was the author of 
 poems and translations published in 1809, and of a "Journey 
 through Albania and other Provinces of Turkey," with Byron, 
 which went through several editions, the first appearing in 1812. 
 His third work, " The Last Reign of Napoleon," appeared in 1816 ; 
 and his fourth, " Historical Illustrations of the Fourth Canto of 
 Childe Harold," in 1818. He was raised to the peerage as Baron 
 Broughton in 1851. The title died with him in 1869. 
 
 t In a letter to Murray from Ravenna, Byron writes that at 
 Cambridge "Bankes was my collegiate pastor, and master, and 
 patron," and that he "was good-naturedly tolerant of my ferocities."
 
 LOVE OF FLATTERY 
 
 natured ; but he is not much of a flatterer. How 
 unjust it is to accuse you ladies of loving flattery 
 so much ; I am sure that we men are quite as 
 much addicted to it, but have not the amiable 
 candour to show it, as you all do. Adulation is 
 never disagreeable when addressed to ourselves, 
 though let us hear only half the same degree of it 
 addressed to another, and we vote the addresser a 
 parasite, and the addressed a fool for swallowing 
 it. But even though we may doubt the sincerity 
 of the judgment of the adulator, the incense is 
 nevertheless acceptable, as it proves we must be 
 of some importance to induce him to take the 
 trouble of flattering us. There are two things 
 that we are all willing to take, and never think 
 we can have too much of (continued Byron) 
 money and flattery ; and the more we have of the 
 first, the more we are likely to get of the second, 
 as far as I have observed, at all events in England, 
 where I have seen wealth excite an attention and 
 respect that virtue, genius, or valour would fail to 
 meet with." 
 
 " I have frequently remarked (said Byron), 
 that in no country have I seen pre-eminence so 
 universally followed by envy, jealousy, and all 
 uncharitableness, as in England ; those who are 
 deterred by shame from openly attacking, endea- 
 vour to depreciate it, by holding up mediocrity to 
 admiration, on the same principle that women,
 
 154 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 when they hear the beauty of another justly 
 extolled, either deny, or assent with faint praise 
 to her claims, and lavish on some merely passable 
 woman the highest encomiums, to prove they are 
 not envious. The English treat their celebrated 
 men as they do their climate, abuse them amongst 
 themselves, and defend them out of amour-propre, 
 if attacked by strangers. 
 
 " Did you ever know a person of powerful 
 abilities really liked in England ? Are not the 
 persons most popular in society precisely those 
 who have no qualities to excite envy ? Amiable, 
 good-natured people, but negative characters ; 
 their very goodness (if mere good-nature can be 
 called goodness) being caused by the want of any 
 positive excellence, as white is produced by the 
 absence of colour. People feel themselves equal, 
 and generally think themselves superior to such 
 persons ; hence, as they cannot wound vanity, 
 they become popular ; all agree to praise them, 
 because each individual, while praising, admin- 
 isters to his own self-complacency, from his belief 
 of superiority to him whom he praises. 
 
 " Notwithstanding their faults, the English, 
 (said Byron,) that is to say, the well bred and 
 well educated among them, are better calculated 
 for the commerce of society than the individuals 
 of other countries, from the simple circumstance 
 that they listen. This makes one cautious of
 
 JEKYLL'S CONVERSATION 
 
 what one says, and prevents the hazarding the 
 mille petits riens that escape when one takes 
 courage from the noise of all talking together, 
 as in other places ; and this is a great point 
 gained. 
 
 " In what country but England could the 
 epigrammatic repartees and spirituel anecdotes of 
 a Jekyll* have flourished ? Place him at a 
 French or Italian table, supposing him au fait of 
 the languages, and this, our English Attic bee, 
 could neither display his honey nor his sting; 
 both would be useless in the hive of drones 
 around him. St. Evremond, I think it is, who 
 says that there is no better company than an 
 Englishman who talks, and a Frenchman who 
 thinks ; but give me the man who listens, unless 
 he can talk like a Jekyll, from the overflowing of 
 a full mind, and not, as most of one's acquaint- 
 ances do, make a noise like drums, from their 
 emptiness. 
 
 " An animated conversation has much the 
 same effect on me as champagne it elevates 
 and makes me giddy, and I say a thousand 
 
 * Joseph Jekyll, born 1753, died 1837, was a member of the 
 Bar, who was more celebrated as a story-teller than a lawyer. He 
 was a favourite of the Prince Regent, to whose influence with Lord 
 Eldon he owed the appointments first of a Commissioner in 
 Lunacy, and second of a Master in Chancery. He wrote 
 humorous verses on topics of the day, the best being the Tears 
 of the Cruets, when Pitt laid a tax on salt.
 
 156 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYROX 
 
 foolish things while under its intoxicating in- 
 fluence : it takes a long time to sober me after ; 
 and I sink, under reaction, into a state of de- 
 pression half cross, half hippish, and out of 
 humour with myself and the world. I rind an 
 interesting book the only sedative to restore me 
 to my wonted calm ; for, left alone to my own 
 reflections, I feel sc ashamed of myself vis-a-vis 
 to myself for my levity and over-excitement, 
 that all the follies I have uttered rise up in judg- 
 ment against me, and I am as sheepish as a 
 schoolboy, after his first degrading abandonment 
 to intemperance." 
 
 " Did you know Curran ?* (asked Byron) he 
 was the most wonderful person I ever saw. In 
 him was combined an imagination the most 
 brilliant and profound, with a flexibility and wit 
 that would have justified the observation applied 
 to , that his heart was in his head. I re- 
 member his once repeating some stanzas to me, 
 four lines of which struck me so much, that I 
 made him repeat them twice, and I wrote them 
 down before I went to bed : 
 
 * John Philpot Curran, born July 24th, 1750, died October i4th, 
 1817, was a distinguished Irish politician, orator and lawyer. Byron 
 wrote to Moore in 1813 : "I have met Curran at Holland House 
 he beats everybody ; his imagination is beyond human, and his 
 wit (it is difficult to define what is wit) perfect. Then he has fifty 
 faces and twice as many voices when he mimics I never met his 
 equal."
 
 SYMBOLS OF MEMORY 157 
 
 " ' While Memory, with more than Egypt's art 
 Embalming all the sorrows of the heart, 
 Sits at the altar which she raised to woe, 
 And feeds the source whence tears eternal flow !' 
 
 I have caught myself repeating these lines fifty 
 times ; and, strange to say, they suggested an 
 image on memory to me, with which they have 
 no sort of resemblance in any way, and yet the 
 idea came while repeating t'hem ; so unaccount- 
 able and incomprehensible is the power of asso- 
 ciation. My thought was Memory, the mirror 
 which affliction dashes to the earth, and, looking 
 down upon the fragments, only beholds the re- 
 flection multiplied." He seemed pleased at my 
 admiring his idea.* I told him that his thoughts, 
 in comparison with those of others, were eagles 
 brought into competition with sparrows. As an 
 example, I gave him my definition of Memory, 
 which I said resembled a telescope bringing 
 distant objects near to us. He said the simile 
 was good ; but I added it was mechanical, 
 instead of poetical, which constituted the differ- 
 ence between excellence and mediocrity, as 
 between the eagle and sparrow. This amused 
 him, though his politeness refused to admit the 
 verity of the comparison. 
 
 * " E'en as a broken mirror which the glass 
 In every fragment multiplies, and makes 
 A thousand images of one that was," etc. 
 
 Childe Harold, Canto iii., St. 33.
 
 158 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 Talking of tact, Byron observed that it ought 
 to be added to the catalogue of the cardinal 
 virtues, and that our happiness frequently de- 
 pended more on it than all the accredited ones. 
 " A man (said he) may have prudence, tem- 
 perance, justice, and fortitude : yet wanting tact 
 may, and must, render those around him uncom- 
 fortable (the English synonym for unhappy) ; 
 and, by the never- failing retributive justice of 
 Nemesis, be unhappy himself, as all are who 
 make others so. I consider tact the real panacea 
 of life, and have observed that those who most 
 eminently possessed it were remarkable for feeling 
 and sentiment ; while, on the contrary, the 
 persons most deficient in it were obtuse, frivolous, 
 or insensible. To possess tact it is necessary to 
 have a fine perception, and to be sensitive ; for 
 how can we know what will pain another with- 
 out having some criterion in our own feelings, 
 by which we can judge of his ? Hence, I main- 
 tain that our tact is always in proportion to our 
 sensibility." 
 
 Talking of love and friendship, Byron said, 
 that " friendship may, and often does, grow into 
 love, but love never subsides into friendship." 
 I maintained the contrary, and instanced the 
 affectionate friendship which replaces the love of 
 married people ; a sentiment as tender, though 
 less passionate, and more durable than the first.
 
 FRIENDSHIP AND LOVE 159 
 
 He said, " You should say more enduring ; for, 
 depend on it, that the good-natured passiveness, 
 with which people submit to the conjugal yoke, 
 is much more founded on the philosophical prin- 
 ciple of what can't be cured must be endured, 
 than the tender friendship you give them credit 
 for. Who that has felt the all-engrossing passion 
 of love (continued he) could support the stagnant 
 calm you refer to for the same object ? No, the 
 humiliation of discovering the frailty of our own 
 nature, which is in no instance more proved than 
 by the short duration of violent love, has some- 
 thing so painful in it, that, with our usual 
 selfishness, we feel, if not a repugnance, at least 
 an indifference to the object that once charmed, 
 but can no longer charm us, and whose presence 
 brings mortifying recollections ; nay, such is our 
 injustice, that we transfer the blame of the 
 weakness of our own natures to the person who 
 had not power to retain our love, and discover 
 blemishes in her to excuse our inconstancy. As 
 indifference begets indifference, vanity is wounded 
 at both sides ; and though good sense may induce 
 people to support and conceal their feelings, how 
 can an affectionate friendship spring up like a 
 phoenix, from the ashes of extinguished passion ? 
 I am afraid that the friendship, in such a case, 
 would be as fabulous as the phoenix, for the 
 recollection of burnt-out love would remain too
 
 160 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 mortifying a memento to admit the successor, 
 friendship." 
 
 I told Byron that this was mere sophistry, and 
 could not be his real sentiments ; as also that, a 
 few days before, he admitted that passion subsides 
 into a better, or at least a more durable feeling. 
 I added, that persons who had felt the engrossing 
 love he described, which was a tempestuous and 
 selfish passion, were glad to sink into the re- 
 freshing calm of milder feelings, and looked back 
 with complacency on the storms they had been 
 exposed to, and with increased sympathy to the 
 person who had shared them. The community 
 of interest, of sorrows, and of joys added new 
 links to the chain of affection, and habit, which 
 might wear away the gloss of the selfish passion 
 he alluded to, gave force to friendship, by render- 
 ing the persons every day more necessary to each 
 other. I added, that dreadful would be the fate 
 of persons, if, after a few months of violent 
 passion, they were to pass their lives in indiffer- 
 ence, merely because their new feelings were less 
 engrossing and exciting than the old. 
 
 " Then (said Byron), if you admit that the 
 violent love does, or must, subside in a few 
 months, and, as in coursing, that we are mad for 
 a minute to be melancholy for an hour, would it 
 not be wiser to choose the friend, I mean the 
 person most calculated for friendship, with whom
 
 BROKEN IDOLS 161 
 
 the long years are to be spent, than the idol who 
 is to be worshipped for some months, and then 
 hurled from the altar we had raised to her, and 
 left defaced and disfigured by the smoke of the 
 incense she had received ?" I maintained that 
 as the idols are chosen nearly always for their 
 
 J 
 
 personal charms, they are seldom calculated for 
 friendship ; hence the disappointment that ensues, 
 when the violence of passion has abated, and the 
 discovery is made that there are no solid qualities 
 to replace the passion that has passed away with 
 the novelty that excited it, " When a man (an- 
 swered Byron) chooses a friend in a woman, he 
 looks to her powers of conversation, her mental 
 qualities, and agreeability; and as these win his re- 
 gard the more they are known, love often takes the 
 place of friendship, and certainly the foundation on 
 which he builds is more likely to be lasting ; and, 
 in this case, I admit that affection, or, as you more 
 prettily call it, tender friendship, may last for ever." 
 I replied that I believe the only difference in 
 our opinions is, that I denied that friendship could 
 not succeed love, and that nothing could change 
 my opinion. " I suppose (said Byron) that a 
 woman, like 
 
 ' ' A man, convinced against his will 
 Is of the same opinion still >:;: 
 
 * " He that complies against his will 
 Is of his own opinion still." 
 
 HudibraS) Part III., canto iii. 
 
 I I
 
 1 62 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 so that all my fine commentaries on my text have 
 been useless ; at all events I hope you give me 
 credit for being ingenious, as well as ingenuous in 
 my defence. Clever men (said Byron) commit a 
 great mistake in selecting wives who are destitute 
 of abilities; I allow that une femme savante is apt 
 to be a bore, and it is to avoid this that people 
 run into the opposite extreme, and condemn 
 themselves to pass their lives with women who 
 are incapable of understanding or appreciating 
 them. 
 
 " Men have an idea that a clever woman must 
 be disputative and dictatorial, not considering that 
 it is only pretenders who are either, and that this 
 applies as much to one sex as the other. Now, 
 my beau ideal would be a woman with talent 
 enough to be able to understand and value mine, 
 but not sufficient to be able to shine herself. 
 All men with pretensions desire this, though few, 
 if any, have courage to avow it : I believe the 
 truth is, that a man must be very conscious of 
 superior abilities to endure the thought of having 
 a rival near the throne, though that rival was 
 his wife ; and as it is said that no man is a 
 hero to his valet- de-chambre, it may be concluded 
 that few men can retain their position on the 
 pedestal of genius vis-a-vis to one who has been 
 behind the curtain, unless that one is unskilled 
 in the art of judging, and consequently admires
 
 GENIUS SHOULD BE UNSEEN 163 
 
 the more because she does not understand. 
 Genius, like greatness, should be seen at a 
 distance, for neither will bear a too close in- 
 spection. Imagine the hero of a hundred rights 
 in his cotton night-cap, subject to all the in- 
 firmities of human nature, and there is an end 
 of his sublimity, and see a poet whose works 
 have raised our thoughts above this sphere of 
 common everyday existence, and who, Pro- 
 metheus-like, has stolen fire from heaven to 
 animate the children of clay, see him in the 
 throes of poetic labour, blotting, tearing, re- 
 writing the lines that we suppose him to have 
 poured forth with Homeric inspiration, and, in 
 the intervals, eating, drinking and sleeping, like 
 the most ordinary mortal, and he soon sinks to 
 a level with them in our estimation. 
 
 " I am sure (said Byron) we can never justly 
 appreciate the works of those with whom we 
 have lived on familiar terms. I have felt this 
 myself, and it applies to poets more than all other 
 writers. They should live in solitude, rendering 
 their presence more desired by its rarity ; never 
 submit to the gratification of the animal appetite 
 of eating in company, and be as distinct in their 
 general habits, as in their genius, from the common 
 herd of mankind." 
 
 He laughed heartily when he had finished 
 this speech, and added, " I have had serious
 
 164 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 thoughts of drawing up a little code of instruc- 
 tions for my brethren of the craft. I don't 
 think my friend Moore would adopt it, and he, 
 perhaps, is the only exception who would be 
 privileged to adhere to his present regime, as 
 he can certainly pass the ordeal of dinners without 
 losing any of his poetical reputation, since the 
 brilliant things that come from his lips reconcile 
 one to the solid things that go into them." 
 
 " We have had * Pleasures of Hope,' * Plea- 
 sures of Memory/ * Pleasures of Imagination/ 
 and * Pleasures of Love.' I wonder that no one 
 has thought of writing Pleasures of Fear (said 
 Byron). It surely is a poetical subject, and 
 much might be made of it in good hands." I 
 answered, " Why do you not undertake it ?" 
 He replied, " Why, I have endeavoured through 
 life to make believe that I am unacquainted with 
 the passion, so I must not now show an intimacy 
 with it, lest I be accused of cowardice, which is, 
 I believe, the only charge that has not yet been 
 brought against me. But, joking apart, it would 
 be a fine subject, and has more of the true 
 sublime than any of the other passions. 
 
 " I have always found more difficulty in hitting 
 on a subject than in filling it up, and so I dare 
 say do most people ; and I have remarked that 
 I never could make much of a subject suggested 
 to me by another. I have sometimes dreamt of
 
 THE PAX ACE A FOR THE ILLS OF LIFE 165 
 
 subjects and incidents (continued he), nay nearly 
 filled up an outline of a tale while under the 
 influence of sleep, but have found it too wild 
 to work up into anything. Dreams are strange 
 things ; and here, again, is one of the incompre- 
 hensibilities of nature. I could tell you extra- 
 ordinary things of dreams, and as true as extra- 
 ordinary, but you would laugh at my superstition. 
 Mine are always troubled and disagreeable ; and 
 one of the most fearful thoughts that ever crossed 
 my mind during moments of gloomy scepticism, 
 has been the possibility that the last sleep may not 
 be dreamless. Fancy an endless dream of horror 
 it is too dreadful to think of this thought alone 
 would lead the veriest clod of animated clay that 
 ever existed to aspirations after immortality. 
 
 " The difference between a religious and irre- 
 ligious man (said Byron) is, that the one sacrifices 
 the present to the future ; and the other, the 
 future to the present." I observed, that grovel- 
 ling must be the mind that can content itself 
 with the present ; even those who are occupied 
 only with their pleasures find the insufficiency of 
 it, and must have something to look forward to 
 in the morrow of the future, so unsatisfying is 
 the to-day of the present ! Byron said that he 
 agreed with me, and added, " The belief in the 
 immortality of the soul is the only true panacea 
 for the ills of life."
 
 166 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 " You will like the Italian women (said Byron), 
 and I advise you to cultivate their acquaintance. 
 They are natural, frank, and good-natured, and 
 have none of the affectation, petite sse, jealousy 
 and malice, that characterize our more polished 
 countrywomen. This gives a raciness to their 
 ideas as well as manners, that to me is peculiarly 
 pleasing ; and I feel with an Italian woman as if 
 she were a full - grown child, possessing the 
 buoyancy and playfulness of infancy with the 
 deep feeling of womanhood ; none of that con- 
 ventional manierisme that one meets with from 
 the first patrician circles in England, justly styled 
 the marble age, so cold and polished, to the 
 second and third coteries, where a coarse carica- 
 ture is given of the unpenetrated and impenetrable 
 mysteries of thejirst. 
 
 " Where dulness, supported by the many, 
 silences talent and originality, upheld by the 
 few, Madame de Stael used to say, that our great 
 balls and assemblies of hundreds in London, to 
 which all flocked, were admirably calculated to 
 reduce all to the same level, and were got up 
 with this intention. In the torrid zone of 
 suffocating hundreds, mediocrity and excellence 
 had equal chances, for neither could be remarked 
 or distinguished ; conversation was impracticable, 
 reflection put hors de combat, and common sense, 
 by universal accord, sent to Coventry ; so that
 
 ITALIAN SOCIETY 167 
 
 after a season in London one doubted one's own 
 identity, and was tempted to repeat the lines in 
 the child's book, * If I be not I, who can I be ?' 
 So completely were one's faculties reduced to the 
 conventional standard. 
 
 " The Italians know not this artificial state of 
 society ; their circles are limited and social ; they 
 love or hate ; but then they ' do their hating 
 gently'; the clever among them are allowed a 
 distinguished place ; the less endowed admires, 
 instead of depreciating, what he cannot attain ; 
 and all and each contribute to the general stock 
 of happiness. Misanthropy is unknown in Italy, 
 as are many of the other exotic passions, forced 
 into flower by the hot-beds of civilization ; and 
 yet in moral England you will hear people express 
 their horror of the freedom and immorality of 
 the Italians, whose errors are but as the weeds 
 that a too warm sun brings forth, while ours are 
 the stinging-nettles of a soil rendered rank by its 
 too great richness. 
 
 " Nature is all-powerful in Italy, and who is it 
 that would not prefer the sins of her exuberance 
 to the crimes of art ? Lay aside ceremony, and 
 meet them with their own warmth and frankness, 
 and I answer for it you will leave those whom 
 you sought as acquaintances, friends, instead of, 
 as in England, scarcely retaining as acquaintances 
 those with whom you had started in life as
 
 i68 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 friends. Who ever saw in Italy the nearest and 
 dearest relations bursting asunder all the ties of 
 consanguinity, from some worldly and interested 
 motive ? And yet this so frequently takes place 
 in England, that, after an absence of a year or 
 two, one dare hardly enquire of a sister after a 
 sister, or a brother after a brother, as one is 
 afraid to be told not that they are dead but 
 that they have cut each other." 
 
 " I ought to be an excellent comic writer (said 
 Byron), if it be true, as some assert, that melan- 
 choly people succeed best in comedy, and gay 
 people in tragedy ; and Moore would make, by 
 that rule, a first-rate tragic writer. I have 
 known, among amateur authors, some of the 
 gayest persons, whose compositions were all of 
 a melancholy turn ; and for myself, some of my 
 nearest approaches to comic have been written 
 under a deep depression of spirits. This is 
 strange, but so is all that appertains to our 
 strange natures ; and the more we analyze the 
 anomalies in ourselves or others, the more in- 
 comprehensible they appear. I believe (con- 
 tinued Byron) the less we reflect on them the 
 better ; at least I am sure those that reflect the 
 least are the happiest. 
 
 " I once heard a clever medical man say, that 
 if a person were to occupy himself a certain time 
 in counting the pulsations of his heart, it would
 
 OF BALANCE 169 
 
 have the effect of accelerating its movements, 
 and, if continued, would produce disease. So 
 it is with the mind and nature of man ; our 
 examinations and reflections lead to no definitive 
 conclusions, and often engender a morbid state 
 of feeling, that increases the anomalies for which 
 we sought to account. We know that we live 
 (continued Byron), and to live and to suffer are, 
 in my opinion, synonymous. We know also 
 that we shall die, though the how, the w r hen, 
 and the where, we are ignorant of; the whole 
 knowledge of man can pierce no farther, and 
 centuries revolving on centuries have made us 
 no wiser. I think it was Luther who said that 
 the human mind was like a drunken man on 
 horseback prop it on one side, and it falls on 
 the other : who that has entered into the recesses 
 of his own mind, or examined all that is exposed 
 in the minds of others, but must have dis- 
 covered this tendencv to weakness, which is 
 
 j 
 
 generally in proportion to the strength in some 
 other faculty ? 
 
 " Great imagination is seldom accompanied by 
 equal powers ot reason, and vice versa, so that 
 we rarely possess superiority in any one point, 
 except at the expense of another. It is surely 
 then unjust (continued Byron, laughing,) to 
 render poets responsible for their want of common 
 sense, since it is only by the excess of imagination
 
 i ?o CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 they can arrive at being poets, and this excess 
 debars reason ; indeed, the very circumstance of a 
 man's yielding to the vocation of a poet ought 
 to serve as a voucher that he is no longer of 
 sound mind." 
 
 Byron always became gay when any subject 
 afforded him an opportunity of ridiculing poets ; 
 he entered into it con amore, and generally ended 
 by some sarcasm on the profession, or on himself. 
 He has often said, " We of the craft are all 
 crazy, but / more than the rest ; some are affected 
 by gaiety, others by melancholy, but all are more 
 or less touched, though few except myself have 
 the candour to avow it, which I do to spare my 
 friends the pain of sending it forth to the world. 
 This very candour is another proof that I am 
 not of sound mind (continued he), for people 
 will be sure to say how far gone he must be, 
 when he admits it ; on the principle that when 
 a belle or beau owns to thirty-five, the world 
 gives them credit for at least seven years more, 
 from the belief that if we seldom speak the truth 
 of others, we never do of ourselves, at least on 
 subjects of personal interest or vanity." 
 
 Talking of an acquaintance, Byron said : 
 
 " Look at , and see how he gets on in the 
 
 world he is as unwilling to do a bad action as 
 he is incapable of doing a good : fear prevents 
 the first, and mechancete the second. The differ-
 
 THE PALACE OF TRUTH 171 
 
 ence between - - and me is, that I abuse many, 
 and really, with one or two exceptions, (and, 
 mind you, they are mates,) hate none ; and he 
 abuses none and hates many, if not all. Fancy 
 in the Palace of Truth, what good fun it would 
 be, to hear him, while he believed himself 
 uttering the most honeyed compliments, giving 
 vent to all the spite and rancour that has been 
 pent up in his mind for years, and then to see 
 the person he has been so long flattering hearing 
 his real sentiments for the first time : this would 
 be rare fun ! Now, I would appear to great 
 advantage in the Palace of Truth," continued 
 Byron, " though you look ill-naturedly incredu- 
 lous ; for while I thought I was vexing friends 
 and foes with spiteful speeches, I should be 
 saying good-natured things, for, au fond, I have 
 no malice, at least none that lasts beyond the 
 moment." 
 
 Never was there a more true observation : 
 Byron's is a fine nature, spite of all the weeds 
 that may have sprung up in it ; and I am con- 
 vinced that it is the excellence of the poet, or 
 rather let me say, the effect of that excellence, 
 that has produced the defects of the man. In 
 proportion to the admiration one has excited, 
 has been the severity of the censure bestowed 
 on the other, and often most unjustly. The 
 world has burnt incense before the poet, and
 
 172 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 heaped ashes on the head of the man. This has 
 revolted and driven him out of the pale of social 
 life : his wounded pride has avenged itself, by 
 painting his own portrait in the most sombre 
 colours, as if to give a still darker picture than 
 has yet been drawn by his foes, while glorying 
 in forcing even from his foes an admiration as 
 unbounded for his genius as has been their dis- 
 approbation for his character. Had his errors 
 met with more mercy, he might have been a less 
 grand poet, but he would have been a more 
 estimable man ; the good that is now dormant 
 in his nature would have been called forth, and 
 the evil would not have been excited. The 
 blast that withers the rose destroys not its thorns, 
 which often remain, the sole remembrancer of 
 the flower they grow near ; and so it is with 
 some of our finest qualities, blighted by unkind- 
 ness, we can only trace them by the faults their 
 destruction has made visible. 
 
 Lord Byron, in talking of his friend, Count 
 Pietro Gamba, (the brother of the Countess 
 Guiccioli,) whom he had presented to us soon 
 after our arrival at Genoa, remarked that he was 
 one of the most amiable, brave, and excellent 
 young men he had ever encountered, with a 
 thirst for knowledge and a disinterestedness 
 rarely to be met with. " He is my grand point 
 cTappui for Greece," said he, " as I know he will
 
 BYROX'S LOVE OF ROUTINE 173 
 
 neither deceive nor flatter me." We have found 
 Count Pietro Gamba exactly what Lord Byron 
 had described him ; sensible, mild, and amiable, 
 devotedly attached to Lord B., and dreaming of 
 glory and Greece. He is extremely good- 
 looking, and Lord Bvron told us he resembled 
 his sister very much, which I dare say increased 
 his partiality for him not a little. 
 
 Habit has a strong influence over Byron: he 
 likes routine, and detests what he calls being put 
 out of his way. He told me that any infringe- 
 ment on his habitual way of living, or passing 
 his time, annoyed him. Talking of thin women, 
 he said, that if they were young and pretty, they 
 reminded him of dried butterflies ; but if neither, 
 of spiders, whose nets would never catch him 
 were he a fly, as they had nothing tempting. A 
 new book is a treasure to him, provided it is 
 really new ; for having read more than perhaps 
 any man of his age, he can immediately discover 
 a want of originality, and throws by the book in 
 disgust at the first wilful plagiary he detects. 
 
 Talking of Mr. Ward,* Lord Byron said 
 
 * The Hon. John William Ward, born August gth, 1781, 
 succeeded his father as Viscount Dudley and Ward on April 5th, 
 1823 ; he was created Viscount Ednam and Earl Dudley in 1827, 
 and he died on March 6th, 1833. Byron heard him speak in the 
 House of Commons in 1813, and remarked, " I like Ward 
 studied but keen, and sometimes eloquent." He was credited
 
 174 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 " Ward is one of the best-informed men I know, 
 and, in a tete-a-tete, is one of the most agreeable 
 companions. He has great originality, and, being 
 tres distrait, it adds to the piquancy of his 
 observations, which are sometimes somewhat 
 trop naive, though always amusing. This naivete 
 of his is the more piquant from his being really a 
 good - natured man, who unconsciously thinks 
 aloud. Interest Ward on a subject, and I know 
 no one who can talk better. His expressions 
 are concise without being poor, and terse and 
 epigrammatic without being affected. He can 
 compress (continued Byron) as much into a few 
 words as anyone I know ; and if he gave more of 
 his attention to his associates, and less to himself, 
 he would be one of the few whom one could 
 praise, without being compelled to use the con- 
 junction but. Ward has bad health, and unfortu- 
 nately, like all valetudinarians, it occupies his 
 attention too much, which will probably bring 
 on a worse state," continued Byron, " that of 
 
 with learning his speeches by heart ; hence the epigram by 
 Rogers : 
 
 " Ward has no heart they say, but I deny it ; 
 He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it." 
 
 Luttrell wrote on the same subject after Ward became Lord 
 Dudley : 
 
 " In vain my affections the ladies are seeking : 
 If I give up my heart, there's an end of my speaking."
 
 EGOTISM AND VANITY 175 
 
 confirmed egoism, a malady that, though not 
 to be found in the catalogue of ailments to which 
 man is subject, yet perhaps is more to be dreaded 
 than all that are." 
 
 I observed that egoism is in general the malady 
 of the aged ; and that, it appears, we become 
 occupied with our own existence in proportion 
 as it ceases to be interesting to others. " Yes," 
 said Byron, " on the same principle as we see the 
 plainest people the vainest, nature giving them 
 vanity and self-love to supply the want of that 
 admiration they never can find in others. I can 
 
 J 
 
 therefore pity and forgive the vanity of the ugly 
 and deformed, whose sole consolation it is; but 
 the handsome, whose good looks are mirrored in 
 the eyes of all around them, should be content 
 with that, and not indulge in such egregious 
 vanity as they give way to in general. But to 
 return to Ward," said Byron, " and this is not 
 apropos to vanity, for I never saw anyone who 
 has less. He is not properly appreciated in 
 England. The English can better understand 
 and enjoy the bons mots of a bon vivant, who can 
 at all times set the table in a roar, than the neat 
 repliques of Ward, which, exciting reflection, are 
 more likely to silence the rabble-riot of intem- 
 perance. They like better the person who 
 makes them laugh, though often at their own 
 expense, than he who forces them to think, an
 
 1 76 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 operation which the mental faculties of few of 
 them are calculated to perform : so that poor 
 Ward, finding himself undervalued, sinks into 
 self, and this, at the long run, is dangerous : 
 
 " ' For well we know, the mind, too finely wrought, 
 Preys on itself, and is o'erpowered by thought.' 
 
 " There are many men in England of superior 
 abilities, (continued Byron,) who are lost from 
 the habits and inferiority of their associates. 
 Such men, finding that they cannot raise their 
 companions to their level, are but too apt to let 
 themselves down to that of the persons they 
 live with ; and hence many a man condescends 
 to be merely a wit, and man of pleasure, who 
 was born for better things. Poor Sheridan often 
 played this character in society ; but he maintained 
 his superiority over the herd, by having estab- 
 lished a literary and political reputation ; and as 
 I have heard him more than once say, when his 
 jokes have drawn down plaudits from companions, 
 to whom, of an evening at least, sobriety and 
 sadness were alike unknown, * It is some conso- 
 lation, that if I set the table in a roar, I can at 
 pleasure set the senate in a roar ;' and this was 
 muttered while under the influence of wine, and 
 as if apologizing to his own mind for the 
 profanation it was evident he felt he had offered 
 to it at the moment.
 
 TA LENTS THRO WN AWAY 177 
 
 " Lord Alvanley* is a delightful companion, 
 (said Byron,) brilliant, witty, and playful ; he 
 can be irresistibly comic when he pleases, but 
 what could he not be if he pleased, for he has 
 talents to be anything ? I lose patience when 
 I see such a man throw himself away ; for there 
 are plenty of men, who could be witty, brilliant, 
 and comic, but who could be nothing else, while 
 he is all these, but could be much more. How 
 many men have made a figure in public life, 
 without half his abilities ! But indolence and 
 the love of pleasure will be the bane of Alvanley, 
 as it has been of many a man of talent before." 
 
 * William Arden, second Lord Alvanley, born September 2oth, 
 1789, died November i6th, 1849, succeeded Beau Brummel as a 
 fashionable wit and a spendthrift. Captain Gronow writes of him 
 as follows : " Apart from his extravagance, Alvanley, the magnifi- 
 cent, the witty, the famous, and chivalrous, was the idol of the 
 clubs and of society, from the King to the ensign of the Guards. 
 . . . When he succeeded to his father's fortune, he inherited an 
 income of ,8,000 a year ; when he died, he did not leave to his 
 brother, who succeeded to the title, above ,2,000." Again : 
 " To Lord Alvanley was awarded the reputation, good or bad, of 
 all the witticisms in the clubs after the abdication of the throne 
 of Dandyism by Brummel, who, before that time, was always 
 quoted as the sayer of good things, as Sheridan had been some 
 time before. Lord Alvanley had the talk of the day completely 
 under his control, and was the arbiter of the school for scandal in 
 St. James's." 
 
 12
 
 [178] 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Byron's habit of ridicule His admiration of Napoleon Metter- 
 nich on Napoleon Why the Viennese speak better French 
 than do the English A very good reason Why Don Juan 
 turned Methodist What the world says A week at Lady 
 Jersey's Lord John Russell's essays on London society 
 Hallam's "Middle Ages" The golden rule Douglas 
 Kinnaird Cremation versus burial Hypochondriasm, bodily 
 and mental Sydney Smith on Mackintosh Lord Erskine 
 The " Anti-Jacobin " The best cosmetic William Spencer, 
 the " Poet of Society " No parody A galaxy of " stars " 
 Decent mediocrity Canning The weight of riches An 
 honest poor man. 
 
 THE more I see of Byron, the more am I con- 
 vinced that all he says and does should be judged 
 more leniently than the sayings and doings of 
 others as his proceed from the impulse of the 
 moment, and never from premeditated malice. 
 He cannot resist expressing whatever comes into 
 his mind ; and the least shade of the ridiculous is 
 seized by him at a glance, and portrayed with 
 a facility and felicity that must encourage the 
 propensity to ridicule, which is inherent in him. 
 All the malice of his nature has lodged itself on
 
 ADMIRATION FOR NAPOLEON 179 
 
 his lips and the fingers of his right hand for 
 there is none, I am persuaded, to be found in 
 his heart, which has more of good than most 
 people give him credit for, except those who 
 have lived with him in habits of intimacy. 
 
 He enters into society as children enter their 
 play-ground, for relaxation and amusement, when 
 his mind has been strained to the utmost, and he 
 feels the necessity of unbending it. Ridicule is 
 his play ; it amuses him perhaps the more that 
 he sees it amuses others, and much of its severity 
 is mitigated by the boyish glee, and laughing 
 sportiveness, with which his sallies are uttered. 
 All this is felt when he is conversing, but un- 
 fortunately it cannot be conveyed to the reader : 
 the narrator would therefore deprecate the censure 
 his sarcasms may excite, in memory of the smiles 
 and gaiety that palliated them when spoken. 
 
 Byron is fond of talking of Napoleon ; and 
 told me that his admiration of him had much 
 increased since he had been in Italy, and witnessed 
 the stupendous works he had planned and executed. 
 " To pass through Italy without thinking of 
 Napoleon, (said he,) is like visiting Naples 
 without looking at Vesuvius." Seeing me smile 
 at the comparison, he added " Though the 
 works of one are indestructible, and the other 
 destructive, still one is continually reminded of 
 the power of both." " And yet (said I) there
 
 i8p CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 are days, when, like all your other favourites, 
 Napoleon does not escape censure." "That may 
 be, (said Byron,) but I find fault and quarrel 
 with Napoleon, as a lover does with the trifling 
 faults of his mistress, from excessive liking, which 
 tempts me to desire that he had been all faultless ; 
 and, like the lover, I return with renewed fondness 
 after each quarrel. Napoleon (continued Byron) 
 was a grand creature, and though he was hurled 
 from his pedestal, after having made thrones his 
 footstool, his memory still remains, like the 
 colossal statue of the Memnon, though cast 
 down from its seat of honour, still bearing the 
 ineffaceable traces of grandeur and sublimity, to 
 astonish future ages. When Metternich (con- 
 tinued Byron) was depreciating the genius of 
 Napoleon, in a circle at Vienna where his word 
 was a law and his nod a decree, he appealed to 
 John William Ward,* if Bonaparte had not been 
 greatly overrated. Ward's answer was as courageous 
 as admirable. He replied, that * Napoleon had 
 rendered past glory doubtful, and future fame 
 impossible.' This was expressed in French, and 
 such pure French, that all present were struck 
 with admiration, no less with the thought than 
 with the mode of expressing it." I told Byron 
 that this reminded me of a reply made by Mr. 
 Ward to a lady at Vienna, who somewhat rudely 
 * Lord Dudley, see p. 173.
 
 A SEVERE RETORT 181 
 
 remarked to him, that it was strange that all the 
 best society at Vienna spoke French as well as 
 German, while the English scarcely spoke French 
 at all, or spoke it ill. Ward answered, that the 
 English must be excused for their want of 
 practice, as the French army had not been twice 
 to London to teach them, as they had been at 
 Vienna. " The coolness of Ward's manner (said 
 Byron) must have lent force to such a reply : I 
 have heard him say many things worth re- 
 membering, and the neatness of their expression 
 was as remarkable as the justness of the thought. 
 It is a pity (continued Byron) that Ward has not 
 written anything : his style, judging by letters 
 of his that I have seen, is admirable, and re- 
 minded me of Sallust." 
 
 Having, one day, taken the liberty of (what he 
 termed) scolding Lord Byron, and finding him 
 take it with his usual good-nature, I observed 
 that I was agreeably surprised by the patience 
 with which he listened to my lectures ; he 
 smiled, and replied, " No man dislikes being 
 lectured by a woman, provided she be not his 
 mother, sister, wife, or mistress : first, it implies 
 that she takes an interest in him, and, secondly, 
 that she does not think him irreclaimable: then, 
 there is not that air of superiority in women 
 when they give advice, that men, particularly 
 one's contemporaries, affect ; and even if there
 
 182 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 were, men think their own superiority so acknow- 
 ledged, that they listen without humiliation to 
 the gentler^ I don't say weaker, sex. There is 
 one exception, however, for I confess I could not 
 
 stand being lectured by Lady ; but then she 
 
 is neither of the weak nor gentle sex she is a 
 nondescript having all the faults of both sexes, 
 without the virtues of either. Two lines in the 
 ' Henriade,' describing Catherine de Medicis, 
 seem made for Lady (continued Byron) 
 
 " ' Possddant et un mot, pour n'en pas dire plus, 
 Les deTauts de son sexe et peu de ses vertus.' " 
 
 I remember only one instance of Byron's being 
 displeased with my frankness. We were return- 
 ing on horseback from Nervi, and in defending a 
 friend of mine, whom he assailed with all the 
 slings and arrows of ridicule and sarcasm, I was 
 obliged to be more severe than usual; and having 
 at that moment arrived at the turn of the road 
 that led to Albaro, he politely, but coldly, wished 
 me good-bye, and galloped off. We had scarcely 
 advanced a hundred yards, when he came gallop- 
 ing after us, and reaching, out his hand, said to 
 me, " Come, come, give me your hand ; I cannot 
 bear that we should part so formally: I am sure 
 what you have said was right, and meant for my 
 good ; so God bless you, and to-morrow we shall 
 ride again, and I promise to say nothing that can
 
 AN ALLEGORICAL REBUKE 183 
 
 produce a lesson." We all agreed that we had 
 never seen Byron appear to so much advantage. 
 He gives me the idea of being the man the most 
 easily to be managed I ever saw: I wish Lady 
 Byron had discovered the means, and both might 
 now be happier. 
 
 Lord Byron told me that the Countess Guic- 
 cioli had repeatedly asked him to discontinue 
 " Don Juan," as its immorality shocked her, and 
 that she could not bear that anything of the kind 
 should be written under the same roof with her. 
 " To please her (said Byron) I gave it up for 
 some time, and have only got permission to 
 continue it on condition of making my hero a 
 more moral person. I shall end by making him 
 turn Methodist; this will please the English, 
 and be an amende honorable for his sins and 
 mine. 
 
 " I once got an anonymous letter, written in a 
 very beautiful female hand (said Byron), on the 
 subject of * Don Juan,' with a beautiful illustrative 
 drawing, beneath which was written * When 
 Byron wrote the first canto of "Don Juan," Love, 
 that had often guided his pen, resigned it to 
 Sensuality and Modesty, covering her face with 
 her veil, to hide her blushes and dry her tears, 
 fled from him for ever/ The drawing (con- 
 tinued Byron) represented Love and Modesty 
 turning their backs on wicked Me and Sen-
 
 184 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 suality, a fat, flushed, wingless Cupid, present- 
 ing me with a pen. Was not this a pretty 
 conceit ? at all events, it is some consolation to 
 occupy the attention of women so much, though 
 it is but by my faults; and I confess it gratifies 
 me. 
 
 " Apropos to Cupid it is strange (said Byron) 
 that the ancients, in their mythology, should 
 represent Wisdom by a woman, and Love by a 
 boy ! how do you account for this ? I confess I 
 have little faith in Minerva, and think that 
 Wisdom is, perhaps, the last attribute I should 
 be inclined to give woman ; but then I do allow, 
 that Love would be more suitably represented by 
 a female than a male; for men or boys feel not 
 the passion with the delicacy and purity that 
 women do ; and this is my real opinion, which 
 must be my peace-offering for doubting the 
 wisdom of your sex." 
 
 Byron is infirm of purpose decides without 
 reflection and gives up his plans if they are 
 opposed for any length of time ; but, as far as I 
 can judge of him, though he yields, he does it 
 not with a good grace : he is a man likely to 
 show that such a sacrifice of self-will was offered 
 up more through indolence than affection, so that 
 his yielding can seldom be quite satisfactory, at 
 least to a delicate mind. He says that all women 
 are exigeante, and apt to be dissatisfied : he is, as I
 
 WOMEN ALL TYRANTS 185 
 
 have told him, too selfish and indolent not to have 
 given those who had more than a common in- 
 terest in him cause to be so. 
 
 It is such men as Byron who complain of 
 women ; they touch not the chords that give 
 sweet music in woman's breast, but strike with 
 a bold and careless hand those that jar and send 
 forth discord. Byron has a false notion on the 
 subject of women; he fancies that they are all 
 disposed to be tyrants, and that the moment they 
 know their power they abuse it. We have had 
 many arguments on this point I maintaining 
 that the more disposed men were to yield to the 
 empire of woman, the less were they inclined to 
 exact, as submission disarmed, and attention and 
 affection enslaved them. 
 
 Men are capable of making great sacrifices, 
 who are not willing to make the lesser ones, on 
 which so much of the happiness of life depends. 
 The great sacrifices are seldom called for, but 
 the minor ones are in daily requisition ; and the 
 making them with cheerfulness and grace en- 
 hances their value, and banishes from the domestic 
 circle the various misunderstandings, discussions, 
 and coldnesses, that arise to embitter existence, 
 where a little self-denial might have kept them 
 off. Woman is a creature of feeling, easily 
 wounded, but susceptible of all the soft and kind 
 emotions : destroy this sensitiveness, and you rob
 
 1 86 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 her of her greatest attraction; study her happi- 
 ness, and you insure your own. 
 
 " One of the things that most please me in 
 the Italian character (said Byron) is the total 
 absence of that belief which exists so generally 
 in England in the mind of each individual, that 
 the circle in which he lives, and which he 
 dignifies by calling The World^ is occupied with 
 him and his actions an idea founded on the 
 extreme vanity that characterizes the English, 
 and that precludes the possibility of living for 
 one's self or those immediately around one. How 
 many of my soi-disant friends in England are 
 dupes to this vanity (continued Byron) keeping 
 up expensive establishments which they can ill 
 afford living in crowds, and with people who 
 do not suit them feeling ennuyes day after day, 
 and yet submitting to all this tiresome routine 
 of vapid reunions, living, during the fashionable 
 season, if living it can be called, in a state of 
 intermittent fever, for the sake of being con- 
 sidered to belong to a certain set. 
 
 " During the time I passed in London, I 
 always remarked that I never met a person who 
 did not tell me how bored he or she had been 
 the day or night before at Lady This or Lady 
 That's ; and when I've asked, ' Why do you 
 go if it bores you ?' the invariable answer has 
 been ' One can't help going ; it would be so
 
 LADY JERSEY AT HOME 187 
 
 odd not to go.' Old and young, ugly and 
 handsome, all have the rage in England of losing 
 their identity in crowds ; and prefer conjugating 
 the verb ennuyer, en masse, in heated rooms, to 
 conning it over in privacy in a purer atmosphere. 
 The constancy and perseverance with which our 
 compatriots support fashionable life have always 
 been to me a subject of wonder, if not of admira- 
 tion, and prove what they might be capable of 
 in a good cause. I am curious to know (con- 
 tinued Byron) if the rising generation will fall 
 into the same inane routine ; though it is to be 
 hoped the march of intellect will have some 
 influence in establishing something like society, 
 which has hitherto been only to be found in 
 country-houses. 
 
 " I spent a week at Lady Jersey's once, and 
 very agreeably it passed ; the guests were well 
 chosen the host and hostess on ' hospitable 
 thoughts intent '- - the establishment combining 
 all the luxury of a maison montee en prince with 
 the ease and comfort of a well-ordered home. 
 How different do the same people appear in 
 London and in the country ! they are hardly to 
 be recognised. In the latter they are as natural 
 and unaffected as they are insipid or over-excited 
 in the former. A certain place (continued Byron) 
 not to be named to ' ears polite/ is said to be 
 paved with good intentions, and London (viewing
 
 1 88 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 the effect it produces on its fashionable inhabitants) 
 may really be supposed to be paved by evil 
 passions, as few can touch its pave without con- 
 tamination. I have been reading Lord John 
 Russell's Essays on London Society,* and find 
 them clever and amusing (said Byron), but too 
 microscopic for my taste : he has, however, 
 treated the subject with a lightness and playful- 
 ness best suited to it, and his reflections show an 
 accuracy of observation that proves he is capable 
 of better things. He who would take a just 
 view of the world must neither examine it 
 through a microscope nor a magnifying-glass. 
 Lord John is a sensible and amiable man, and 
 bids fair to distinguish himself. 
 
 " Do you know Hallam ? (said Byron). Of 
 course I need not ask you if you have read his 
 * Middle Ages :' it is an admirable work, full of 
 research, and does Hallam honour.-)- I know no 
 one capable of having written it except him ; for, 
 admitting that a writer could be found who could 
 bring to the task his knowledge and talents, it 
 
 * The title of this book, which was published in 1820, is 
 "Essays and Sketches of Life and Character by a Gentleman 
 who has left his Lodgings." The author's name does not appear 
 on the title-page and that of Joseph Skillett is at the end of the 
 preface. It is characteristic of the writer that the longest essay 
 is on "The State of the English Constitution." 
 
 t Hallam's most notable work, " The Constitutional History of 
 England," did not appear till three years after Byron's death.
 
 HISTORIES OF HALL AM AND ROBERTSON 189 
 
 would be difficult to find one who united to these 
 his research, patience, and perspicuity of style. 
 The reflections of Hallam are at once just and 
 profound his language well chosen and im- 
 pressive. I remember (continued Byron) being 
 struck by a passage, where, touching on the 
 Venetians, he writes ' Too blind to avert danger, 
 too cowardly to withstand it, the most ancient 
 government of Europe made not an instant's 
 resistance : the peasants of Underwald died upon 
 their mountains the nobles of Venice clung only 
 to their lives.' This is the style in which history 
 ought to be written, if it is wished to impress it 
 on the memory ; and I found myself, on my first 
 perusal of the * Middle Ages,' repeating aloud 
 many such passages as the one I have cited, they 
 struck my fancy so much. Robertson's State of 
 Europe, in his c Charles the Fifth,' is another of 
 my great favourites (continued Byron) ; it contains 
 an epitome of information. Such works do 
 more towards the extension of knowledge than 
 half the ponderous tomes that lumber up our 
 libraries : they are the railroads to learning ; 
 while the others are the neglected old roads that 
 deter us from attempting the journey. 
 
 " It is strange (said Byron) that we are in 
 general much more influenced by the opinions of 
 those whose sentiments ought to be a matter of 
 indifference to us, than by that of near or dear
 
 IQO CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 friends ; nay, we often do things totally opposed 
 to the opinions of the latter (on whom much, if 
 not all, our comfort depends), to cultivate that of 
 the former, who are or can be nothing in the 
 scale of our happiness. It is in this opposition 
 between our conduct and our affections that much 
 of our troubles originates ; it loosens the bonds of 
 affection between us and those we ought to 
 please, and fails to excite any good- will in those 
 whom our vanity leads us to wish to propitiate, 
 because they are regardless of us and of our 
 actions. 
 
 " With all our selfishness, this is a great 
 mistake (continued Byron); for, as I take it for 
 granted we have all some feelings of natural 
 affection for our kindred or friends, and conse- 
 quently wish to retain theirs ; we never wound 
 or offend them without its re-acting on our- 
 selves, by alienating them from us : hence selfish- 
 ness ought to make us study the wishes of those 
 to whom we look for happiness ; and the 
 principle of doing as you would be done by, a 
 principle which, if acted upon, could not fail to 
 add to the stock of general good, was founded in 
 wisdom and knowledge of the selfishness of 
 human nature." 
 
 Talking of Mr. D. Kinnaird, Byron said, " My 
 friend Dug is a proof that a good heart cannot 
 compensate for an irritable temper : whenever he
 
 DOUGLAS KINNAIRD 191 
 
 is named, people dwell on the last and pass over 
 the first; and yet he really has an excellent heart, 
 and a sound head, of which I, in common with 
 many others of his friends, have had various 
 proofs. He is clever too, and well informed, 
 and I do think would have made a figure in the 
 world, were it not for his temper, which gives a 
 dictatorial tone to his manner, that is offensive to 
 the amour-propre of those with whom he mixes ; 
 and when you alarm that (said Byron), there is 
 an end of your influence. By tacitly admitting 
 the claims of vanity of others, you make at least 
 acquiescent beholders of your own, and this is 
 something gained ; for, depend on it, disguise it 
 how we will, vanity is the prime mover in most, 
 if not all, of us, and some of the actions and 
 works that have the most excited our admiration 
 have been inspired by this passion, that none will 
 own to, yet that influences all. 
 
 " The great difference between the happy and 
 unhappy (said Byron) is, that the former are afraid 
 to contemplate death, and the latter look forward 
 to it as a release from suffering. Now as death 
 is inevitable, and life brief and uncertain, un- 
 happiness, viewed in this point, is rather 
 desirable than otherwise ; but few, I fear, derive 
 consolation from the reflection. I think of death 
 often (continued Byron), as I believe do most 
 people who are not happy, and view it as a refuge
 
 192 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 ' where the wicked cease from troubling, and the 
 weary are at rest.' There is something calm 
 and soothing to me in the thought of death ; 
 and the only time that I feel repugnance to it 
 is on a fine day, in solitude, in a beautiful country, 
 when all nature seems rejoicing in light and life. 
 The contrast then between the beautiful and 
 animated world around me, and the dark narrow 
 grave, gives a chill to the feelings ; for, with all 
 the boasted philosophy of man, his physical 
 being influences his notions of that state where 
 they can be felt no more. The nailed down 
 coffin, and the dark gloomy vault, or grave, 
 always mingle with our thoughts of death ; then 
 the decomposition of our mortal frames, the being 
 preyed on by reptiles, add to the disgusting 
 horror of the picture, and one has need of all 
 the hopes of immortality to enable one to pass 
 over this bridge between the life we know and 
 the life we hope to find.* 
 
 " Do you know (said Byron) that when I have 
 looked on some face that I love, imagination has 
 often figured the changes that death must one 
 day produce on it the worm rioting on lips now 
 smiling, the features and hues of health changed 
 
 * Since the introduction of cremation, less horrible thoughts 
 prevail in the minds of those who favour that method of treating 
 human remains ; for, as Sir Thomas Browne wrote, " tragical 
 abominations are escaped in burning burials."
 
 'HAPPINESS IS BUT IN OPINION" 193 
 
 to the livid and ghastly tints of putrefaction ; and 
 the image conjured up by my fancy, but which is 
 as true as it is a fearful anticipation of what must 
 arrive, has left an impression for hours that the 
 actual presence of the object, in all the bloom of 
 health, has not been able to banish : this is one of 
 my pleasures of imagination." 
 
 Talking of hypochondriasm, Byron said, that 
 the world had little compassion for two of the 
 most serious ills that human nature is subject to 
 mental or bodily hypochondriasm : " Real ail- 
 ments may be cured (said he), but imaginary 
 ones, either moral or physical, admit of no 
 remedy. People analyze the supposed causes of 
 maladies of the mind; and if the sufferer be rich, 
 well born, well looking, and clever in any way, 
 they conclude he, or she, can have no cause for 
 unhappiness; nay, assign the cleverness, which is 
 often the source of unhappiness, as among the 
 adventitious gifts that increase, or ought to in- 
 crease, felicity, and pity not the unhappiness 
 they cannot understand. They take the same 
 view of imaginary physical ailments, never re- 
 flecting that ' happiness (or health) is often but 
 in opinion;' and that he who believes himself 
 wretched or ill suffers perhaps more than he who 
 has real cause for wretchedness, or who is labour- 
 ing under disease with less acute sensibility to 
 feel his troubles, and nerves subdued by ill-health,
 
 194 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 which prevents his suffering from bodily ills as 
 severely as does the hypochondriac from imagi- 
 nary ones. The irritability of genius (continued 
 Byron) is nothing more or less than a delicacy of 
 organization, which gives a susceptibility to im- 
 pressions to which coarser minds are never sub- 
 ject, and cultivation and refinement but increase 
 it, until the unhappy victim becomes a prey to 
 mental hypochondriasm." 
 
 Byron furnished a melancholy illustration of 
 the fate of genius ; and while he dwelt on the 
 diseases to which it is subject, I looked at his 
 fine features, already marked by premature age, 
 and his face " sicklied o'er with the pale cast 
 of thought," and stamped with decay, until I 
 felt that his was no hypothetical statement. 
 Alas !- 
 
 " Noblest minds 
 
 Sink soonest into ruins, like a tree 
 That, with the weight of its own golden fruitage, 
 Is bent down to the dust." 
 
 " Do you know Mackintosh ? (asked Lord 
 Byron) his is a mind of powerful calibre. 
 Madame de Stael used to extol him to the 
 skies, and was perfectly sincere in her admira- 
 tion of him, which was not the case with all 
 whom she praised. Mackintosh also praised 
 her: but his is a mind that, as Moore writes, 
 4 rather loves to praise than blame,' for with a
 
 ENGLISH, SCOTCH AXD IRISH INTELLECTS 195 
 
 judgment so comprehensive, a knowledge so 
 general, and a critical acumen rarely to be met 
 with, his sentences are never severe.* He is a 
 powerful writer and speaker ; there is an earnest- 
 ness and vigour in his style, and a force and 
 purity in his language, equally free from inflation 
 and loquacity. Lord Erskine is, I know, a friend 
 of yours (continued Byron), and a most gifted 
 person he is. The Scotch are certainly very 
 superior people ; with intellects naturally more 
 acute than the English, they are better educated 
 and make better men of business. Erskine is 
 full of imagination, and in this he resembles your 
 countrymen, the Irish, more than the Scotch. 
 The Irish would make better poets, and the 
 Scotch philosophers ; but this excess of imagina- 
 tion gives a redundancy to the writings and 
 speeches of the Irish that I object to : they come 
 down on one with similes, tropes, and metaphors, 
 a superabundance of riches that makes one long 
 for a little plain matter of fact. 
 
 * Sydney Smith, who admired Mackintosh, said that " his chief 
 foible was indiscriminate praise." He wrote a speech caricaturing 
 this failing, of which the last two sentences will serve as a speci- 
 men : " I cannot conclude, sir, without thanking you for the very 
 clear and distinct manner in which you have announced the 
 proposition on which we are to vote. It is but common justice to 
 add, that public assemblies rarely witness articulation so perfect, 
 language so select, and a manner so eminently remarkable for 
 everything that is kind, impartial, and just." " Memoir of Sydney 
 Smith," vol. i., p. 441.
 
 196 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 " An Irishman, of course I mean a clever one 
 (continued Byron), educated in Scotland, would 
 be perfection, for the Scots professors would 
 prune down the over -luxuriant shoots of his 
 imagination, and strengthen his reasoning powers. 
 I hope you are not very much offended with me 
 for this critique on your countrymen (continued 
 Byron) ; but, en revanche^ I give you carte blanche 
 to attack mine, as much as you please, and will 
 join in your strictures to the utmost extent to 
 which you wish to go. 
 
 " Lord Erskine is, or was, (said Byron,) for I 
 suppose age has not improved him more than it 
 generally does people, the most brilliant person 
 imaginable ; quick, vivacious, and sparkling, he 
 spoke so well that I never felt tired of listening 
 to him, even when he abandoned himself to that 
 subject of which all his other friends and acquaint- 
 ances expressed themselves so fatigued self. His 
 egoism was remarkable, but there was a bon- 
 homie in it that showed he had a better opinion 
 of mankind than they deserved ; for it implied a 
 belief that his listeners could be interested in 
 what concerned him, whom they professed to 
 like.* 
 
 * The caricature in the Anti-Jacobin of his manner is amusing, 
 and it may convey a good idea of it : " Mr. Erskine now rose, in 
 consequence of some allusions which had been made to the trial 
 by jury. He professed himself to be highly flattered by the 
 encomiums which had been lavished upon him ; but at the same
 
 ERSKINE'S EGOTISM 197 
 
 " He was deceived in this (continued Byron), 
 as are all who have a favourable opinion of their 
 fellow-men : in society all and each are occupied 
 with self, and can rarely pardon any one who 
 presumes to draw their attention to other subjects 
 for any length of time. Erskine had been a 
 great man, and he knew it ; and in talking so 
 continually of self, imagined that he was but the 
 echo of fame. All his talents, wit, and brilliancy 
 were insufficient to excuse this weakness in the 
 opinion of his friends; and I have seen bores, 
 acknowledged bores, turn from this clever man, 
 with every symptom of ennui, when he has been 
 reciting an interesting anecdote, merely because 
 he was the principal actor in it. 
 
 " This fastidiousness of the English," continued 
 Byron, " the habit of pronouncing people bores, 
 often imposes on strangers and stupid people, who 
 conceive that it arises from delicacy of taste and 
 
 time he was conscious that he could not, without some degree of 
 reason, consent to arrogate to himself those qualities which the 
 partiality of his friends had attributed to him. He had, on former 
 occasions, declared himself to be clothed with the infirmities of 
 man's nature ; and he now begged leave, in all humility, to reiterate 
 that confession : he should never cease to consider himself as a 
 feeble, and with respect to the extent of his faculties, in many 
 respects a finite, being. He had ever borne in mind, and he hoped 
 he should ever continue to bear in mind, those words of the 
 inspired Penman, ' Thou hast made him less than the angels to 
 crown him with glory and honour.'" The Anti-Jacobin, vol. i., 
 pp. 126, 127.
 
 IQ8 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 superior abilities. I never was taken in by it, 
 for I have generally found that those who were 
 the most ready to pronounce others bores, had 
 the most indisputable claims to that title in their 
 own persons. The truth is," continued Byron, 
 " the English are very envious, they are au fond 
 conscious x that they are dreadfully dull being 
 loquacious without liveliness, proud without 
 dignity, and brusque without sincerity ; they 
 never forgive those who show that they have 
 made the same discovery, or who occupy public 
 attention, of which they are jealous. 
 
 " An Englishman rarely condescends to take 
 the trouble of conciliating admiration (though he 
 is jealous of esteem), and he as rarely pardons 
 those who have succeeded in attaining it. They 
 are jealous," continued Byron, " of popularity of 
 every sort, and not only depreciate the talents 
 that obtain it, whatever they may be, but the 
 person who possesses them. I have seen in 
 London, in one of the circles the most recherche, 
 a literary man a la mode universally attacked by 
 the elite of the party, who were damning his 
 merits with faint praise, and drawing his defects 
 into notice, until some other candidate for appro- 
 bation as a conversationist, a singer, or even a 
 dancer, was named, when all fell upon him 
 proving that a superiority of tongue, voice, or heel 
 was as little to be pardoned as genius or talent.
 
 GENIUS RESENTS CRITICISM 199 
 
 " I have known people," continued Byron, 
 " talk of the highest efforts of genius as if they 
 had been within the reach of each of the 
 commonplace individuals of the circle ; and com- 
 ment on the acute reasonings of some logician as 
 it they could have made the same deductions 
 from the same premises, though ignorant of the 
 most simple syllogism. Their very ignorance of 
 the subjects on which they pronounce is perhaps 
 the cause of the fearless decisions they give, for, 
 knowing nought, they think everything easy : 
 but this impertinence," continued Byron, " is 
 difficult to be borne by those who know ' how 
 painful 'tis to climb,' and who having, by labour, 
 gained some one of the eminences in literature 
 which, alas ! as we all know, are but as mole- 
 hills compared to the acclivity they aim at 
 ascending are the more deeply impressed with 
 the difficulties that they have yet to surmount. 
 I have never vet been satisfied with any one of 
 my own productions ; I cannot read them over 
 without detecting a thousand faults ; but when 
 I read critiques upon them by those who could 
 not have written them, I lose my patience. 
 
 " There is an old and stupid song," said Byron, 
 " that says * Friendship with woman is sister to 
 love.' There is some truth in this ; for let a 
 man form a friendship with a woman, even 
 though she be no longer young or handsome,
 
 200 
 
 there is a softness and tenderness attached to it 
 that no male friendship can know. A proof of 
 
 this is, that Lady M , who might have been 
 
 my mother, excited an interest in my feelings 
 that few young women have been able to awaken. 
 She was a charming person a sort of modern 
 Aspasia, uniting the energy of a man's mind with 
 the delicacy and tenderness of a woman's. She 
 wrote and spoke admirably, because she felt 
 admirably. Envy, malice, hatred, or unchari- 
 tableness, found no place in her feelings. She 
 had all of philosophy, save its moroseness, and all 
 of nature, save its defects and general faiblesse ; or 
 if some portion of faiblesse attached to her, it only 
 served to render her more forbearing to the errors 
 of others. I have often thought, that, with a 
 
 little more youth, Lady M might have 
 
 turned my head, at all events she often turned 
 my heart, by bringing me back to mild feelings, 
 when the demon passion was strong within me. 
 Her mind and heart were as fresh as if only 
 sixteen summers had flown over her, instead of 
 four times that number : and the mind and heart 
 always leave external marks of their state of 
 health. Goodness is the best cosmetic that has 
 yet been discovered, for I am of opinion that, not 
 according to our friend Moore 
 
 " ' As the shining casket's worn, 
 The gem within will tarnish, too,'
 
 THE POET OF SOCIETY 201 
 
 but, au contrairey the decay of the gem will 
 tarnish the casket the sword will wear away 
 the scabbard. Then how rare is it to see age 
 give its experience without its hardness of heart ! 
 
 and this was Lady M 's case. She was a 
 
 captivating creature, malgre her eleven or twelve 
 lustres, and I shall always love her. 
 
 " Did you know William Spencer, the Poet of 
 Society, as they used to call him ?" : said Byron. 
 " His was really what your countrymen call an 
 elegant mind, polished, graceful, and sentimental, 
 with just enough gaiety to prevent his being 
 lachrymose, and enough sentiment to prevent 
 his being too anacreontic. There was a great 
 deal of genuine fun in Spencer's conversation, as 
 well as a great deal of refined sentiment in his 
 verses. I liked both, for both were perfectly 
 aristocratic in their way ; neither one nor the 
 other was calculated to please the canaille, which 
 made me like them all the better. 
 
 " England was, after all I may say against it, 
 very delightful in my day ; that is to say, there 
 were some six or seven very delightful people 
 
 : The Honourable William Robert Spencer, born 1769, died 
 October 23rd, 1834, composed verses which had so much vogue 
 that the authors of " The Rejected Addresses " parodied them in 
 one styled "The Beautiful Incendiary," of which Jeffrey wrote 
 in the Edinburgh jRez'ietc' : " The flashy, fashionable, artificial 
 style of this writer, with his confident and extravagant compli- 
 ments, can scarcely be said to be parodied in such lines."
 
 202 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 among the hundred commonplace that one saw 
 every day seven stars, the pleiades, visible when 
 all others had hid their diminished heads ; and 
 look where we may, where can we find so many 
 stars united elsewhere ? Moore, Campbell, 
 Rogers, Spencer, as poets ; and how many con- 
 versationists to be added to the galaxy of stars- 
 one set irradiating our libraries of a morning, and 
 the other illuminating our dining-rooms of an 
 evening ! All this was, and would be, very 
 delightful, could you have confined the stars 
 within their own planets ; but, alas ! they were 
 given to wander into other spheres, and often 
 set in the arctic circles, the frozen zones of 
 nobility. 
 
 " I often thought at that time," continued 
 Byron, " that England had reached the pinnacle 
 that point where, as no advance can be made, a 
 nation must retrograde and I don't think I was 
 wrong. Our army had arrived at a state of per- 
 fection before unknown ; Wellington's star was 
 in the ascendant, and all others paled before its 
 influence. We had Grey, Grenville, Wellesley, 
 and Holland in the House of Peers, and Sheridan, 
 Canning, Burdett, and Tierney in the Commons. 
 In society we were rich in poets, then in their 
 zenith, now, alas ! fallen into the sear and yellow 
 leaf; and in wits of whom one did not speak in 
 the past tense. Of these, those whom the de-
 
 DECADENCE OF INTELLECT 
 
 stroyer Time has not cut off he has mutilated ; 
 the wine of their lives has turned sour and lost 
 its body, and who is there to supply their places ? 
 The march of intellect has been preceded by 
 pioneers, who have levelled all the eminences of 
 distinction, and reduced all to the level of decent 
 mediocrity. 
 
 " It is said that as people grow old they 
 magnify the superiority of past times, and 
 detract from the advantages of the present: this 
 is natural enough ; for admitting that the advan- 
 tages were equal, we view them through a dif- 
 ferent medium the sight, like all the other 
 senses, loses its fine perceptions, and nought 
 looks as bright through the dim optics of age 
 as through the bright ones of youth ; but as I 
 have only reached the respectable point of middle 
 age," continued Byron, " I cannot attribute my 
 opinion of the falling off of the present men to 
 my senility ; and I really see or hear of no young 
 men, either in the literary or political fields ot 
 London, who promise to supply the places of the 
 men of my time no successional crop to replace 
 the passing or the past." 
 
 I told Byron that the march of intellect had 
 rendered the spread of knowledge so general, that 
 young men abstained from writing, or at least 
 from publishing, until they thought they had 
 produced something likely to attract attention,
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 which was now much more difficult to be ob- 
 tained than formerly, as people grew more fas- 
 tidious every day. He would not agree to this, 
 but maintained that mediocrity was the distin- 
 guishing feature of the present times, and that 
 we should see no more men like those of his 
 day. To hear Byron talk of himself, one would 
 suppose that instead of thirty-six he was sixty 
 years old : there is no affectation in this, as he 
 says he feels all the languor and exhaustion of 
 age. 
 
 Byron always talks in terms of high admira- 
 tion of Mr. Canning ; says he is a man of 
 superior abilities, brilliant fancy, cultivated mind, 
 and most effective eloquence ; and adds, that 
 Canning only wanted to be born to a good estate 
 to have made a great statesman. " Fortune," 
 continued Byron, " would have saved him from 
 tergiversation, the bare suspicion of which is 
 destructive to the confidence a statesman ought 
 to inspire. As it is," said he, " Canning is bril- 
 liant but not great, with all the elements in him 
 that constitute greatness." 
 
 Talking of Lord , Byron observed that 
 
 his success in life was a proof of the weight that 
 fortune gave a man, and his popularity a certain 
 sign of his mediocrity : " the first," said Byron, 
 *' puts him out of the possibility of being sus- 
 pected of mercenary motives ; and the second
 
 _ ff-* 5 -
 
 ^A T HONEST POOR MAN 205 
 
 precludes envy ; yet you hear him praised at 
 every side for his independence ! and a great 
 merit it is truly," said he, " in a man who has 
 high rank and large fortune what can he want, 
 and where could be the temptation to barter his 
 principles, since he already has all that people 
 seek in such a traffic ? No, I see no merit in 
 Lord -'s independence ; give me the man 
 who is poor and untitled, with talents to excite 
 temptation, and honesty to resist it, and I will 
 give him credit for independence of principle, 
 because he deserves it. People," continued 
 Byron, " talk to you of Lord -'s high char- 
 acter in what does it consist ? Why, in being, 
 as I before said, put by fortune and rank beyond 
 the power of temptation having an even temper, 
 thanks to a cool head and a colder heart ! and a 
 mediocrity of talents that insures his being ' con- 
 tent to live in decencies for ever,' while it 
 exempts him from exciting envy or jealousy, the 
 followers of excellence."
 
 r 206 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott His thrice-read novels Byron's memory 
 Madame du Deffand Richardson's novels A letter to 
 Voltaire A lasting friendship Extremes meet Stoicism- 
 Righteous indignation Sir William Drummond His 
 " Academical questions " An admirable preface Robert 
 Walpole Francis Horner Translations Pope's " Homer " 
 George Colman the younger- Canning Byron's monody 
 on Sheridan, and Moore's lines Byron on the Irish. 
 
 BYRON continually reverts to Sir Walter Scott, 
 and always in terms of admiration for his genius, 
 and affection for his good qualities ; he says that 
 he never gets up from the perusal of one of his 
 works, without finding himself in a better dis- 
 position ; and that he generally reads his novels 
 three times. " I find such a just mode of 
 thinking," said Byron, " that I could fill volumes 
 with detached thoughts from Scott, all, and each, 
 full of truth and beauty. Then how good are 
 his definitions ! Do you remember, in c Peveril 
 of the Peak,' where he says, 4 Presence of mind 
 is courage. Real valour consists, not in being 
 insensible to danger, but in being prompt to
 
 BYROX'S LOVE FOR SCOTT 207 
 
 confront and disarm it ' ? How true is this, and 
 what an admirable distinction between moral and 
 physical courage !" 
 
 I complimented him on his memory, and he 
 added : " My memory is very retentive, but the 
 passage I repeated I read this morning for the 
 third time. How applicable to Scott's works is 
 the observation made by Madame du Deffand on 
 Richardson's Novels, in one of her letters to 
 Voltaire : ' La morale y est en action, et n'a 
 jamais etc traitee d'une maniere plus interessante. 
 On meurt d'envie d'etre parfait apres cette lecture, 
 et Ton croit que rien n'est si aise.'* I think," 
 continued Byron, after a pause, " that Scott is the 
 only very successful genius that could be cited as 
 being as generally beloved as a man, as he is 
 admired as an author ; and, I must add, he 
 deserves it, for he is so thoroughly good-natured, 
 sincere, and honest, that he disarms the envy and 
 jealousy his extraordinary genius must excite. 1 
 hope to meet Scott once more before I die ; for, 
 worn out as are my affections, he still retains a 
 strong hold on them." 
 
 * The passage referred to may be the following. After having 
 said that English novels were too long, Madame du Deffand con- 
 tinues : " Mais je trouve que ce sont des traites de morale en 
 actions, qui sont tres interessante, et peuvent etre fort utiles ; 
 c'est Pamela, Claire et Grandison, 1'auteur est Richardson, il me 
 parait avoir bien de 1'esprit." *' Lettres de la Marquise du 
 Deffand,''' vol. iv., p. 129.
 
 208 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 There was something highly gratifying to the 
 feelings in witnessing the warmth and cordiality 
 that Byron's countenance and manner displayed 
 when talking of Sir Walter ; it proved how 
 capable he was of entertaining friendship, a 
 sentiment of which he so frequently professed to 
 doubt the existence : but in this, as on many 
 other points, he never did himself justice ; and 
 the turn for ridicule and satire implanted in his 
 nature led him to indulge in observations in which 
 his real feelings had no share. Circumstances 
 had rendered Byron suspicious ; he was apt to 
 attribute every mark of interest or good -will 
 shown to him as emanating from vanity, that 
 sought gratification by a contact with his poetical 
 celebrity ; this encouraged his predilection for 
 hoaxing, ridiculing, and doubting friends and 
 friendship. But as Scott's own well-earned 
 celebrity put the possibility of such a motive out 
 of the question, Byron yielded to the sentiment 
 of friendship in all its force for him, and never 
 named him but with praise and affection. 
 
 Byron's was a proud mind, that resisted correc- 
 tion, but that might easily be led by kindness ; 
 his errors had been so severely punished, that he 
 became reckless and misanthropic, to avenge the 
 injustice he had experienced ; and, as misanthropy 
 was foreign to his nature, its partial indulgence 
 produced the painful state of being continually
 
 CAUSES OF BYRO^ ^ S CYNICISM 209 
 
 at war with his better feelings, and of rendering 
 him dissatisfied with himself and others. 
 
 Talking of the effects that ingratitude and 
 disappointments produced on the character of 
 the individual who experienced them, Byron said 
 that " they invariably soured the nature of the 
 person, who, when reduced to this state of 
 acidity, was decried as a cynical, ill-natured brute. 
 People wonder," continued he, " that a man is 
 sour who has been feeding on acids all his life. 
 The extremes of adversity and prosperity produce 
 the same effects ; they harden the heart, and ener- 
 vate the mind; they render a person so selfish, that, 
 occupied solely with his own pains or pleasures, 
 he ceases to feel for others ; hence, as sweets turn 
 to acids as well as sours, excessive prosperity may 
 produce the same consequences as adversity." 
 
 His was a nature to be bettered by prosperity, 
 and to be rendered obstinate by adversity. He 
 invoked Stoicism to resist injustice, but its shield 
 repelled not a single blow aimed at his peace, 
 while its appearance deprived him of the sympathy 
 for which his heart yearned. Let those, who 
 would judge with severity the errors of this 
 wayward child of genius, look back at his days 
 of infancy and youth, and ask themselves whether, 
 under such unfavourable auspices, they could 
 have escaped the defects that tarnish the lustre 
 of his fame, defects rendered more obvious by 
 
 H
 
 210 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 the brightness they partially obscured, and which, 
 without that brightness, had perhaps never been 
 observed. 
 
 An eagle confined in a cage could not have 
 been more misplaced than was Byron in the 
 artificial and conventional society that disgusted 
 him with the world ; like that daring bird, he 
 could fearlessly soar high, and contemplate the 
 sun, but he was unfit for the busy haunts of 
 men ; and he, whose genius could people a desert, 
 pined in the solitude of crowds. The people 
 he saw resembled not the creatures his fancy had 
 formed, and, with a heart yearning towards his 
 fellow-men, pride and a false estimate of mankind 
 repelled him from seeking their sympathy, though 
 it deprived them not of his, as not all his assumed 
 Stoicism could subdue the kind feelings that 
 spontaneously showed themselves when the 
 misfortunes of others were named. Byron warred 
 only with the vices and follies of his species ; 
 and if he had a bitter jest and biting sarcasm for 
 these, he had pity and forbearance for affliction, 
 even though deserved, and forgot the cause in 
 the effect. Misfortune was sacred in his eyes, 
 and seemed to be the last link of the chain that 
 connected him with his fellow-men. 
 
 I remember hearing a person in his presence 
 revert to the unhappiness of an individual known 
 to all the party present, and, having instanced 
 some proofs of the unhappiness, observe, that the
 
 BYRON'S NATIVE GOODNESS 211 
 
 person was not to be pitied, for he had brought 
 it on himself by misconduct. I shall never 
 forget the expression of Byron's face; it glowed 
 with indignation, and, turning to the person who 
 had excited it, he said, " If, as you say, this 
 heavy misfortune has been caused by -'s 
 
 misconduct, then is he doubly to be pitied, for 
 he has the reproaches of conscience to embitter 
 his draught. Those who have lost what is 
 considered the right to pity in losing reputation 
 and self-respect, are the persons who stand most 
 in need of commiseration ; and yet the charitable 
 feelings of the over-moral would deny them this 
 boon ; reserving it for those on whom undeserved 
 misfortunes fall, and who, having that 'within 
 which renders pity superfluous, have also respect 
 to supply its place. Nothing so completely serves 
 to demoralize a man as the certainty that he has 
 lost the sympathy of his fellow-creatures; it 
 breaks the last tie that binds him to humanity, 
 and renders him reckless and irreclaimable. 
 This," continued Byron, " is my moral; and this 
 it is that makes me pity the guilty and respect 
 the unfortunate." 
 
 While he spoke, the earnestness of his manner, 
 and the increased colour and animation of his 
 countenance, bore evident marks of the sincerity 
 of the sentiments he uttered : it was at such 
 moments that his native goodness burst forth, 
 and pages of misanthropic sarcasms could not
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 efface the impression they left behind, though 
 he often endeavoured to destroy such impressions 
 by pleasantries against himself. 
 
 " When you go to Naples you must make ac- 
 quaintance with Sir William Drummond,"* said 
 Byron, " for he is certainly one of the most eru- 
 dite men and admirable philosophers now living. 
 He has all the wit of Voltaire, with a profundity 
 that seldom appertains to wit, and writes so 
 forcibly, and with such elegance and purity of 
 
 * Sir William Drummond, born about 1770, died 1828, was 
 between 1801 and 1809 in the Diplomatic Service, having been 
 employed as Ambassador to the Ottoman Porte, and Envoy Ex- 
 traordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to the Court of Naples. 
 He wrote " A Review of the Governments of Athens and Sparta,'' 
 which was published in 1795; "Philosophical Sketches on the 
 Principles of Society and Government," which appeared two years 
 before, had no name on the title-page, and did not attract the 
 public. His other writings, with the dates of publication, were 
 a translation of "The Satires of Persius " (1798); "Academical 
 Questions" (1805) ; " Herculanasia," in concert with Robert Wai- 
 pole (1810); "Essay on a Punic Inscription found in the Island 
 of Malta" (1810); a blank verse poem on "Odin" (1817); 
 "Origenes" (1824 to 1829); " CEdipus Judiacus," printed for 
 private circulation only (1811). The copy of " Academical Ques- 
 tions'' in the library of the Reform Club contains copies of two 
 manuscript letters from Sir William Drummond to Francis Horner, 
 in which he writes : " It would not have been safe to have written 
 upon such subjects as I have treated of, with that distinctness 
 with which I can speak to a friend ;" and, " I have made some 
 unavailing exceptions against my own rule in the third chapter, in 
 favour of the existence of a God as proved from the doctrine of 
 causes and effects ; but an attentive perusal of my work will show 
 you that these were suggested by the personal fears of the author., 
 and not by the independent reflexions of the philosopher.'
 
 SIR WILLIAM DRUM MONO 21 
 
 style, that his works possess a peculiar charm. 
 Have you read his ' Academical Questions ?' if 
 not, get them directly, and I think you will 
 agree with me, that the preface to that work 
 alone would prove Sir William Drummond an 
 admirable writer. He concludes it by the fol- 
 lowing sentence, which I think one of the best 
 in our language: ' Prejudice may be trusted to 
 guard the outworks for a short space of time, 
 while Reason slumbers in the citadel ; but if the 
 latter sink into a lethargy, the former will quickly 
 erect a standard for herself. Philosophy, wisdom, 
 and liberty, support each other ; he who will 
 not reason is a bigot ; he who cannot is a fool ; 
 and he who dares not, is a slave.' Is not the 
 passage admirable ?" continued Byron ; " how 
 few could have written it, and yet how few 
 read Drummond's works ! they are too good to 
 be popular. His ' Odin ' is really a fine poem, 
 and has some passages that are beautiful, but it 
 is so little read that it may be said to have 
 dropped still-born from the press, a mortifying 
 proof of the bad taste of the age. His translation 
 of Persius is not only very literal, but preserves 
 much of the spirit of the original ; a merit that, 
 let me tell you, is very rare at present, when 
 translations have about as much of the spirit of 
 the original as champagne diluted with three 
 parts of water may be supposed to retain of the 
 pure and sparkling wine.
 
 214 
 
 " Translations, for the most part, resemble 
 imitations, where the marked defects are ex- 
 aggerated, and the beauties passed over, always 
 excepting the imitations of Mathews," continued 
 Byron, " who seems to have continuous chords in 
 his mind, that vibrate to those in the minds of 
 others, as he gives not only the look, tones, and 
 manners of the persons he personifies, but the 
 very train of thinking, and the expressions they 
 indulge in ; and, strange to say, this modern 
 Proteus succeeds best when the imitated is a 
 person of genius, or great talent, as he seems to 
 identify himself with him. His imitation of 
 Curran can hardly be so called it is a continua- 
 tion, and is inimitable. I remember Sir Walter 
 Scott's observing, that Mathews' imitations were 
 of the mind^ to those who had the key ; but as 
 the majority had it not, they were contented 
 with admiring those of the person, and pro- 
 nounced him a mimic who ought to be con- 
 sidered an accurate and philosophic observer of 
 human nature, blessed with the rare talent of 
 intuitively identifying himself with the minds 
 of others. 
 
 " But, to return to Sir William Drummond," 
 continued Byron, " he has escaped all the defects 
 of translators, and his Persius resembles the 
 original as nearly in feeling and sentiment as two 
 languages so dissimilar in idiom will admit. 
 Translations almost always disappoint me ; I
 
 SOCIETY IVITS 21 5 
 
 must, however, except Pope's ' Homer,' which 
 has more of the spirit of Homer than all the 
 other translations put together, and the Teian 
 bard himself might have been proud of the 
 beautiful odes which the Irish Anacreon has 
 
 gven 
 
 " Of the wits about town, I think," said 
 Byron, " that George Colman was one of the 
 most agreeable ; he was toujours pret, and after 
 two or three glasses of champagne, the quick- 
 silver of his wit mounted to beau fixe. Colman 
 has a good deal of tact ; he feels that convivial 
 hours were meant for enjoyment, and under- 
 
 stands societv so well, that he never obtrudes 
 
 j 
 
 any private feeling, except hilarity, into it. His 
 jokes are all good, and readable, and flow with- 
 out effort, like the champagne that often gives 
 birth to them, sparkle after sparkle, and brilliant 
 to the last. Then one is sure of Colman," con- 
 tinued Byron, " which is a great comfort ; for 
 to be made to cry when one had made up one's 
 mind to laugh, is a trlste affair.-)- I remember 
 
 ' The Honourable Henry Erskine produced the following lines 
 after the publication of Moore's version of Anacreon's odes : 
 
 " Ah ! mourn not for Anacreon dead : 
 Ah ! weep not for Anacreon fled : 
 The lyre still breathes he touched before, 
 For we have one Anacreon Moore." 
 
 r Byron wrote in his " Journal ": " If I had to choose, and could 
 not have both at a time, I should say, ' Let me begin the evening 
 with Sheridan and finish it with Colman.'" George Colman the
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRUN 
 
 that this was the great drawback with Sheridan ; 
 a little wine made him melancholy, and his 
 melancholy was contagious ; for who could bear 
 to see the wizard, who could at will command 
 smiles or tears, yield to the latter, without sharing 
 them, though one wished that the exhibition had 
 been less public ? 
 
 " My feelings were never more excited than 
 while writing the Monody on Sheridan, every 
 word that I wrote came direct from the heart.* 
 
 younger, was born October 21, 1762, and died October 17, 1836. 
 Like his father before him, he was a prolific playwright. He was 
 manager for a time of the Haymarket Theatre ; but riotous living 
 led to his imprisonment for debt. On January iQth, 1824, he was 
 appointed Examiner of Plays, and he displayed in that capacity 
 a respect for public morals which he had not exhibited as a writer. 
 He was intimate with Canning as well as Byron, and the "Rovers ; 
 or, The Double Arrangement," in the Anti-Jacobin, was the joint 
 production of Canning and Colman. 
 
 * MONODY ON THE DEATH OF THE RIGHT HON. R. B. SHERIDAN. 
 
 " When the last sunshine of expiring day 
 In Summer's twilight weeps itself away, 
 Who hath not felt the softness of the hour 
 Sink on the heart, as dew along the flower? 
 With a pure feeling which absorbs and awes, 
 While Nature makes that melancholy pause, 
 Her breathing moment on the bridge where Time 
 Of light and darkness forms an arch sublime, 
 Who hath not shared that calm so still and deep, 
 The voiceless thought which would not speak but weep, 
 A holy concord, and a bright regret, 
 A glorious sympathy with suns that set ?
 
 BYRON'S MONODY ON SHERIDAN 217 
 
 Poor Sherry ! what a noble mind was in him 
 overthrown by poverty ! and to see the men with 
 
 'Tis not harsh sorrow, but a tenderer woe, 
 
 Nameless, but dear to gentle hearts below, 
 
 Felt without bitterness, but full and clear, 
 
 A sweet dejection a transparent tear, 
 
 Unmixed with worldly grief or selfish stain, 
 
 Shed without shame a secret without pain. 
 
 Even as the tenderness that hour instils, 
 
 When Summer's day declines along the hills, 
 
 So feels the fulness of our hearts and eyes 
 
 When all of genius, which can perish, dies. 
 
 A mighty Spirit is eclipsed a Power 
 
 Hath passed from day to darkness to whose hour 
 
 Of light no darkness is bequeathed no name, 
 
 Focus at once of all the rays of fame ! 
 
 The flash of wit the bright intelligence, 
 
 The beam of song the blaze of eloquence, 
 
 Set with their sun but still have left behind 
 
 The enduring produce of immortal mind ; 
 
 Fruits of a genial morn, a glorious noon, 
 
 A deathless part of him who died too soon. 
 
 But small that portion of the wondrous whole, 
 
 These sparkling segments of that circling soul, 
 
 Which all embraced and lightened over all, 
 
 To cheer to pierce to please or to appal. 
 
 From the charmed council to the festive board, 
 
 Of human feelings the unbounded lord ; 
 
 In whose acclaim the loftiest voices vied 
 
 The praised the proud- who made his praise their pride 
 
 When the loud cry of trampled Hindostan 
 
 Arose to Heaven in her appeal from man, 
 
 His was the thunder his the avenging rod, 
 
 The wrath the delegated voice of God ! 
 
 Which shook the nations through his lips and blazed 
 
 Till vanquished senates trembled as they praised.
 
 2i8 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 whom he had passed his life, the dark souls 
 whom his genius illumined, rolling in wealth, 
 
 And here, oh ! here, where yet all young and warm 
 
 The gay creations of his spirit charm, 
 
 The matchless dialogue the deathless wit, 
 
 Which knew not what it was to intermit ; 
 
 The glowing portraits, fresh from life, that bring 
 
 Home to our hearts the truth from which they spring ; 
 
 These wondrous beings of his fancy, wrought 
 
 To fulness by the fiat of his thought, 
 
 Here in their first abode you still may meet, 
 
 Bright with the hues of his Promethean heat ; 
 
 A halo of the light of other days. 
 
 Which still the splendour of his orb betrays. 
 
 But should there be to whom the fatal blight 
 
 Of failing wisdom yields a base delight, 
 
 Men who exalt when minds of heavenly tone 
 
 Jar in the music which was born their own, 
 
 Still let them praise ah ! little do they know 
 
 That what to them seemed vice might be but woe. 
 
 Hard is his fate on whom the public gaze 
 
 Is fixed for ever to detract or praise ; 
 
 Repose denies her requiem to his name 
 
 And folly loves the martyrdom of fame. 
 
 The secret enemy whose sleepless eye 
 
 Stands sentinel accuser judge and spy, 
 
 The foe the fool the jealous and the vain, 
 
 The envious who but breathe in others' pain, 
 
 Behold the host ! delighting to deprave, 
 
 Who track the steps of glory to the grave, 
 
 Watch every fault that daring genius owes 
 
 Half to the ardour which its birth bestows, 
 
 Distort the truth, accumulate the lie, 
 
 And pile the pyramid of calumny ! 
 
 These are his portion but if joined to these 
 
 Gaunt poverty should league with deep disease,
 
 SHERIDAN'S MELANCHOLY DEATH 219 
 
 the Sybarites whose slumbers a crushed rose-leaf 
 would have disturbed, leaving him to die on the 
 
 If the high spirit must forget to soar, 
 
 And stoop and strive with misery at the door, 
 
 To soothe indignity and face to face 
 
 Meet sordid rage and wrestle with disgrace, 
 
 To find in hope but the renewed caress, 
 
 The serpent-fold of further faithlessness : 
 
 If such may be the ills which men assail, 
 
 What marvel if at last the mightiest fail ? 
 
 Breasts to whom all the strength of feeling given 
 
 Bear hearts electric charged with fire from Heaven, 
 
 Black with the rude collision, inly torn, 
 
 By clouds surrounded, and on whirlwinds borne, 
 
 Driven o'er the lowering atmosphere that nurst 
 
 Thoughts which have turned to thunder scorch -and burst. 
 
 But far from us and from our mimic scene 
 
 Such things should be if such have ever been : 
 
 Ours be the gentler wish, the kinder task, 
 
 To give the tribute glory need not ask, 
 
 To mourn the vanished beam -and add our mite 
 
 Of praise in payment of a long delight. 
 
 Ye Orators ! whom yet our Councils yield, 
 
 Mourn for the veteran hero of your field ! 
 
 The worthy rival of the wondrous three ! 
 
 Whose words were sparks of immortality ! 
 
 Ye bards ! to whom the drama's muse is dear, 
 
 He was your master, emulate him here ! 
 
 Ye men of wit and social eloquence ! 
 
 He was your brother bear his ashes hence ! 
 
 While powers of mind almost of boundless range, 
 
 Complete in kind as various in their change, 
 
 While Eloquence Wit -Poesy -and Mirth, 
 
 That humble harmonist of Care on earth, 
 
 Survive within our souls while lives our sense 
 
 Of pride in merit's proud pre-eminence.
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 pallet of poverty, his last moments disturbed by the 
 myrmidons of the law. Oh ! it was enough to 
 disgust one with human nature, but above all with 
 the nature of those who, professing liberality, were 
 so little acquainted with its twin sister generosity. 
 " I have seen poor Sheridan weep, and good 
 cause had he," continued Byron. " Placed by 
 his transcendent talents in an elevated sphere, 
 without the means of supporting the necessary 
 appearance, to how many humiliations must his 
 fine mind have submitted, ere he had arrived at 
 the state in which I knew him, of reckless jokes 
 to pacify creditors of a morning, and alternate 
 smiles and tears of an evening, round the boards 
 where ostentatious dulness called in his aid to 
 give a zest to the wine that often maddened him, 
 but could not thaw the frozen current of their 
 blood. Moore's Monody on Sheridan," con- 
 tinued Byron, " was a fine burst of generous 
 indignation, and is one of the most powerful of 
 his compositions.* It was as daring as my 
 
 Long shall we seek his likeness long in vain, 
 And turn to all of him which may remain, 
 Sighing that Nature formed but one such man 
 And broke the die in moulding Sheridan." 
 
 Byron's Works, edition 1832, pp. 313-319. 
 
 * LINES ON THE DEATH OF SHERIDAN. 
 " Yes, grief will have way but the fast-falling tear 
 Shall be mingled with deep execration on those 
 Who can bask in that spirit's meridian career 
 
 And yet leave it thus lonely and dark at its close :
 
 MOORE'S INDIGNAXT I' ERSES 221 
 
 ' Avatar,' which was bold enough, and, God 
 knows, true enough, but I have never repented 
 
 " Whose vanity flew round him, only while fed 
 
 By the odour his fame in its summer-time gave ; 
 Whose vanity now, with quick scent for the dead, 
 
 Like the ghoul of the East, comes to feed at his grave. 
 
 " Oh ! it sickens the heart to see bosoms so hollow, 
 
 And spirits so mean in the great and high-born ; 
 To think that a long line of titles may follow 
 
 The relics of him who died friendless and lorn ! 
 
 " How proud they can press to the funeral array 
 
 Of one who they shunned in his sickness and sorrow : 
 How bailiffs may seize his last blanket to-day, 
 
 Whose pall shall be held up by nobles to-morrow ! 
 
 " And thou, too, whose life a sick epicure's dream, 
 Incoherent and gross, even grosser had passed, 
 Were it not for that cordial and soul-giving beam, 
 
 Which his friendship and wit o'er thy nothingness cast : - 
 
 " No, not for the wealth of the land, that supplies thee, 
 
 With millions to heap upon Foppery's shrine ; 
 No, not for the riches of all who despise thee, 
 
 Though this would make Europe's whole opulence mine : 
 
 " Would I suffer what e'en in the heart that thou hast, 
 
 All mean as it is must have consciously burned 
 When the pittance, which shame had wrung from thee at last 
 And which found all his wants at an end, was returned : 
 
 " ' Was this then the fate," -future ages will say, 
 
 When some names will live but in history's curse, 
 
 When Truth will be heard, and these Lords of a day 
 
 Be forgotten as fools, or remembered as worse ; 
 
 " ' Was this then the fate of that high-gifted man 
 
 The pride of the palace, the bower and the hall, 
 The orator dramatist minstrel who ran 
 
 Through each mode of the lyre, and was master of all ;
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 it. Your countrymen behaved dreadfully on 
 that occasion ; despair may support the chains of 
 tyranny, but it is only baseness that can sing and 
 dance in them, as did the Irish on the King's 
 visit. But I see you would prefer another 
 subject, so let us talk of something else, though 
 this cannot be a humiliating one to you per- 
 sonally, as I know your husband did not make 
 one among the rabble at that Saturnalia. 
 
 " The Irish are strange people," continued 
 Byron, " at one moment overpowered by sadness, 
 
 ' ' Whose mind was an essence, compounded with art 
 
 From the finest and best of all other men's powers : - 
 Who ruled like a wizard, the world of the heart, 
 
 And could call up its sunshine, or bring down its showers ; 
 
 " ' Whose humour as gay as the fire-fly's light 
 
 Played round every subject and shone as it played, 
 Whose wit in the combat, as gentle as bright, 
 Ne'er carried a heart-stain away on its blade : 
 
 " ' Whose eloquence brightening whatever it tried, 
 Whether reason or fancy, the gay or the grave,- 
 Was as rapid, as deep, and as brilliant a tide, 
 As ever bore Freedom aloft on its wave !' 
 
 " Yes such was the man, and so wretched his fate ; 
 And thus, sooner or later, shall all have to grieve, 
 Who waste their morn's dew in the beams of the great, 
 And expect 'twill return to refresh them at eve. 
 
 " In the woods of the north there are insects that prey 
 
 On the brain of the elk till his very last sigh ; 
 Oh, Genius ! thy patrons, more cruel than they, 
 
 First feed on thy brains, and then leave thee to die !" 
 
 Moore's Poetical Works, edition 1851, pp. 400, 401.
 
 THE IRISH TEMPERAMENT 
 
 and the next elevated to joy ; impressionable as 
 heated wax, and like it changing each time that 
 it is warmed. The dolphin, when shone upon 
 by the sun, changes not its hues more frequently 
 than do your mobile countrymen, and this want 
 of stability will leave them long what centuries 
 have found them slaves. I liked them before 
 the degradation of 1822, but the dance in chains 
 disgusted me. What would Grattan and Curran 
 have thought of it ? and Moore, why struck he 
 not the harp of Erin to awaken the slumbering 
 souls of his supine countrymen ?"
 
 [22 4 ] 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Byron as a man A difficult task Byron's versatility A false 
 beau ideal Lord Blessington John Gait, a prolific author- 
 The " Entail " Shipmates The milk of human kindness- 
 Shelley's amiability A " thorough-paced manceuvrer " The 
 beauty of age A donna of forty-six A landscape by Claude 
 Lorraine " Sentiment centred in wrinkles " Moore " speak- 
 ing roses" His songs sung by himself Byron's auto- 
 biography Greek epigrams Rogers's epigram on Ward 
 Byron's parsimony His want of good taste " Crede Byron." 
 
 To those who only know Byron as an author, it 
 would be difficult, if not impossible, to convey 
 a just impression of him as a man. In him the 
 elements of good and evil were so strongly mixed, 
 that an error could not be detected that was not 
 allied to some good quality ; and his fine qualities, 
 and they were many, could hardly be separated 
 from the faults that sullied them. In bestowing 
 on Byron a genius as versatile as it was brilliant 
 and powerful, Nature had not denied him warmth 
 of heart, and the kind affections that beget, while 
 they are formed to repay friendship ; but a false 
 beau ideal that he had created for himself, and a 
 wish of exciting wonder, led him into a line of
 
 BYRON'S ATTACKS ON HIS FRIENDS 225 
 
 conduct calculated to lower him in the estimation 
 of superficial observers, who judge from ap- 
 pearances, while those who had opportunities of 
 observing him more nearly, and who made 
 allowance for his besetting sin, (the assumption of 
 vices and errors, that he either had not, or 
 exaggerated the appearance of,) found in him 
 more to admire than censure, and to pity than 
 condemn. In his severest satires, however much 
 of malice there might be in the expression, there 
 was little in the feeling that dictated them ; they 
 came from the imagination and not from the 
 heart, for in a few minutes after he had unveiled 
 the errors of some friends or acquaintances, he 
 would call attention to some of their good quali- 
 ties with as much apparent pleasure as he had 
 dwelt on their defects. 
 
 A nearly daily intercourse of ten weeks with 
 Byron left the impression on my mind, that if an 
 extraordinary quickness of perception prevented 
 his passing over the errors of those with whom 
 he came in contact, and a natural incontinence of 
 speech betrayed him into an exposure of them, a 
 candour and good-nature, quite as remarkable, 
 often led him to enumerate their virtues, and to 
 draw attention to them. It may be supposed, 
 that with such powerful talents, there was less 
 excuse for the attacks he was in the habit of 
 making on his friends and acquaintances ; but 
 
 '5
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 those very talents were the cause ; they suggested 
 a thousand lively and piquant images to his fancy, 
 relative to the defects of those with whom he 
 associated ; and he had not self-command suffi- 
 cient to repress the sallies that he knew must 
 show at once his discrimination and talents for 
 ridicule, and amuse his hearers, however they 
 might betray a want of good-nature and sincerity. 
 There was no premeditated malignity in Byron's 
 nature ; though constantly in the habit of exposing 
 the follies and vanity of his friends, I never heard 
 him blacken their reputations, and I never felt an 
 unfavourable impression from any of the censures 
 he bestowed, because I saw they were aimed at 
 follies, and not character. He used frequently to 
 say that people hated him more for exposing 
 their follies than if he had attacked their moral 
 characters, adding, " Such is the vanity of human 
 nature, that men would prefer being defamed to 
 being ridiculed, and would much sooner pardon 
 the first than the second. There is much more 
 folly than vice in the world," said Byron. " The 
 appearance of the latter is often assumed by the 
 dictates of the former, and people pass for being 
 vicious who are only foolish. I have seen such 
 examples," continued he, " of this in the world, 
 that it makes one rather incredulous as to the 
 extent of actual vice ; but I can believe anything 
 of the capabilities of vanity and folly, having
 
 VAMTY AXD FOLLY 227 
 
 witnessed to what length they can go. I have 
 seen women compromise their honour (in appear- 
 ance only) for the triumph (and a hopeful one) 
 of rivalling some contemporary belle ; and men 
 sacrifice theirs, in reality, by false boastings for 
 the gratification of vanity. All, all is vanity and 
 vexation of spirit," added he ; " the first being 
 the legitimate parent of the second, an offspring 
 that, school it how you will, is sure to turn out a 
 curse to its parent." 
 
 " Lord Blessington has been talking to me 
 about Mr. Gait," said Lord Byron, " and tells 
 me much good of him.* I am pleased at finding 
 he is as amiable a man as his recent works 
 prove him to be a clever and intelligent author. 
 When I knew Gait, years ago, I was not in a 
 frame of mind to form an impartial opinion of 
 him ; his mildness and equanimitv struck me 
 even then ; but, to say the truth, his manner 
 had not deference enough for my then aristo- 
 cratical taste, and finding I could not awe him 
 
 * John Gait, born May 2nd, 1779, died April nth, 1834, was 
 the author of tragedies and books of travel, biographies and novels, 
 his published works numbering forty-four. He was one of the few 
 contemporaries of Sir Walter Scott whose works of fiction had a 
 popularity nearly as great as his. " The Annals of the Parish," 
 " The Provost," and " Sir Andrew Wylie " are the three which are 
 best known and best worth reading. The second edition of that 
 last named was dedicated to the Earl of Blessington, and a portrait 
 of him was added. Gait was Byron's companion for a short time 
 on his travels and wrote a life of him.
 
 228 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 into a respect sufficiently profound for my sublime 
 self, either as a peer or an author, I felt a little 
 grudge towards him that has now completely 
 worn off. 
 
 " There is a quaint humour and observance 
 of character in his novels that interest me very 
 much, and when he chooses to be pathetic he 
 fools one to his bent, for I assure you the ' Entail ' 
 beguiled me of some portion of watery humours, 
 yclept tears, ' albeit unused to the melting mood.' 
 What I admire particularly in Gait's works," 
 continued Byron, " is, that with a perfect 
 knowledge of human nature and its frailties and 
 legerdemain tricks, he shows a tenderness of 
 heart which convinces one that his is in the right 
 place, and he has a sly caustic humour that is 
 very amusing. All that Lord Blessington has 
 been telling me of Gait has made me reflect on 
 the striking difference between his (Lord B.'s) 
 nature and my own. I had an excellent op- 
 portunity of judging Gait, being shut up on 
 board ship with him for some days ; and though 
 I saw he was mild, equable, and sensible, I took 
 no pains to cultivate his acquaintance further than 
 I should with any common-place person, which 
 he was not; and Lord Blessington in London, 
 with a numerous acquaintance, and * all appliances 
 to boot,' for choosing and selecting, has found 
 so much to like in Gait, malgre the difference
 
 LORD BLESSINGTON'S AMIABILITY 
 
 of their politics, that his liking has grown into 
 friendship. 
 
 " I must say that I never saw the milk of 
 human kindness overflow in any nature to so 
 great a degree as in Lord Blessington's," con- 
 tinued Byron. " I used, before I knew him 
 well, to think that Shelley was the most amiable 
 person I ever knew, but I now think that Lord 
 B. bears off the palm, for he has been assailed 
 by all the temptations that so few can resist, 
 those of unvarying prosperity, and has passed 
 the ordeal victoriously, a triumphant proof of 
 the extraordinary goodness of his nature, while 
 poor Shelley had been tried in the school of 
 adversity only, which is not such a corrupter 
 as is that of prosperity. If Lord B. has not the 
 power, Midas -like, of turning whatever he 
 touches into gold," continued Byron, " he has 
 at least that of turning all into good. I, alas ! 
 detect only the evil qualities of those that 
 approach me, while he discovers the amiable. 
 It appears to me, that the extreme excellence of 
 his own disposition prevents his attributing evil 
 to others ; I do assure you," continued Byron, 
 " I have thought better of mankind since I have 
 known him intimately." 
 
 The earnestness of Byron's manner convinced 
 me that he spoke his real sentiments relative to 
 Lord B., and that his commendations were not
 
 230 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 uttered with a view of gratifying me, but flowed 
 spontaneously in the honest warmth of the 
 moment. A long, daily and hourly knowledge 
 of the person he praised, has enabled me to judge 
 of the justice of the commendation, and Byron 
 never spoke more truly than when he pronounced 
 Lord B.'s a faultless nature. While he was 
 speaking, he continually looked back, for fear 
 that the person of whom he spoke should over- 
 hear his remarks, as he was riding behind, at a 
 little distance from us. 
 
 " Is Lady as restless and indefatigable as 
 
 ever ? (asked Byron.) She is an extraordinary 
 woman, and the most thorough-paced manceuvrer 
 I ever met with ; she cannot make or accept an 
 invitation, or perform any of the common 
 courtesies of life, without manoeuvring, and has 
 always some plan in agitation, to which all her 
 acquaintance are made subservient. This is so 
 evident, that she never approached me that I did 
 not expect her to levy contributions on my muse, 
 the only disposable property I possessed ; and I 
 was as surprised as grateful at finding it was not 
 pressed into the service for compassing some job, 
 or accomplishing some mischief. Then she 
 passes for being clever, when she is only cunning : 
 her life has been passed in giving the best proof 
 of want of cleverness, that of intriguing to carry 
 points not worth intriguing for, and that must
 
 CLEVERNESS AXD CUNNING 
 
 have occurred in the natural course of events 
 without any manoeuvring on her part. Cleverness 
 and cunning are incompatible I never saw them 
 united ; the latter is the resource of the weak, 
 and is only natural to them : children and fools 
 are always cunning, but clever people never. 
 The world, or rather the persons who compose 
 it, are so indolent, that when they see great 
 personal activity, joined to indefatigable and un- 
 shrinking exertion of tongue, they conclude that 
 such effects must proceed from adequate causes, 
 never reflecting that real cleverness requires not 
 such aids ; but few people take the trouble of 
 analyzing the actions or motives of others, and 
 least of all when such others have no envy- 
 stirring attractions. On this account Lady 's 
 
 manoeuvres are set down to cleverness ; but when 
 she was young and pretty they were less favour- 
 ably judged. 
 
 " Women of a certain age (continued Byron) 
 are for the most part bores or mechantes. I have 
 known some delightful exceptions, but on con- 
 sideration they were past the certain age, and 
 were no longer, like the coffin of Mahomet, 
 hovering between heaven and earth, that is to 
 say, floating between maturity and age, but had 
 fixed their persons on the unpretending easy 
 chairs of viei/fesse, and their thoughts neither on 
 war nor conquest, except the conquest of self.
 
 232 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 Age is beautiful when no attempt is made to 
 modernize it. Who can look at the interesting 
 remains of loveliness without some of the same 
 tender feelings of melancholy with which we 
 regard a fine ruin ? Both mark the triumph of 
 the mighty conqueror Time ; and whether we 
 examine the eyes, the windows of the soul, through 
 which love and hope once sparkled, now dim 
 and languid, showing only resignation, or the 
 ruined casements of the abbey or castle through 
 which blazed the light of tapers, and the smoke 
 of incense offered to the Deity, the feelings 
 excited are much the same, and we approach 
 both with reverence, always (interrupted Byron) 
 provided that the old beauty is not a specimen 
 of the florid Gothic, by which I mean restored, 
 painted, and varnished, and that the abbey or 
 castle is not whitewashed ; both, under such 
 circumstances, produce the same effect on me, 
 and all reverence is lost ; but I do seriouslv admire 
 
 * 
 
 age when it is not ashamed to let itself be seen, 
 and look on it as something sanctified and holy, 
 having passed through the fire of its passions, 
 and being on the verge of the grave. 
 
 " I once (said Byron) found it necessary to call 
 up all that could be said in favour of matured 
 beauty, when my heart became captive to a donna 
 of forty-six, who certainly excited as lively a 
 passion in my breast as ever it has known ; and
 
 AUTUMNAL BEAUTY 233 
 
 even now the autumnal charms of Ladv are 
 
 y 
 
 remembered by me with more than admiration. 
 She resembled a landscape by Claude Lorraine, 
 with a setting sun, her beauties enhanced by the 
 knowledge that they were shedding their last 
 dying beams, which threw a radiance around. 
 A woman (continued Byron) is only grateful for 
 her first and last conquest. The first of poor 
 dear Lady - 's was achieved before I entered 
 on this world of care, but the last I do flatter 
 myself was reserved for me, and a bonne bouche 
 it was." 
 
 I told Byron that his poetical sentiments of 
 the attractions of matured beauty had, at the 
 moment, suggested four lines to me ; which 
 he begged me to repeat, and he laughed not a 
 little when I recited the following lines to 
 him :-- 
 
 " Oh ! talk not to me of the charms of youth's dimples, 
 There's surely more sentiment centred in wrinkles. 
 They're the triumphs of time that mark beauty's decay, 
 Telling tales of years past, and the few left to stay." 
 
 " I never spent an hour with Moore (said 
 Byron) without being ready to apply to him the 
 expression attributed to Aristophanes, * You have 
 spoken roses ;' his thoughts and expressions have 
 all the beauty and freshness of those flowers, but 
 the piquancy of his wit, and the readiness of his
 
 234 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 repartees, prevent one's ear being cloyed by too 
 much sweets, and one cannot * die of a rose in 
 aromatic pain ' with Moore, though he does 
 speak roses, there is such an endless variety in 
 his conversation. Moore is the only poet I know 
 (continued Byron) whose conversation equals his 
 writings ; he comes into society with a mind as 
 fresh and buoyant as if he had not expended such 
 a multiplicity of thoughts on paper ; and leaves 
 behind him an impression that he possesses an 
 inexhaustible mine equally brilliant as the 
 specimens he has given us. Will you, after this 
 frank confession of my opinion of your country- 
 man, ever accuse me of injustice again ? You 
 see I can render justice when I am not forced 
 into its opposite extreme by hearing people over- 
 praised, which always awakes the sleeping Devil 
 in my nature, as witness the desperate attack I 
 
 gave your friend Lord the other day, merely 
 
 because you all wanted to make me believe he 
 was a model, which he is not ; though I admit 
 he is not all or half that which I accused him of 
 being. Had you dispraised, probably I should 
 have defended him." 
 
 "I will give you some stanzas I wrote yester- 
 day (said Byron) ; they are as simple as even 
 Wordsworth himself could write, and would do 
 for music." 
 
 The following are the lines :
 
 MOORE'S SONGS SUNG BY HIMSELF 
 
 "To 
 
 " But once I dared to lift my eyes 
 
 To lift my eyes to thee : 
 And since that day, beneath the skies, 
 No other sight they see. 
 
 " In vain sleep shuts them in the night 
 
 The night grows day to me ; 
 Presenting idly to my sight 
 What still a dream must be. 
 
 " A fatal dream for many a bar 
 Divides thy fate from mine ; 
 And still my passions wake and war, 
 But peace be still with thine." 
 
 " No one writes songs like Moore (said Byron). 
 Sentiment and imagination are joined to the most 
 harmonious versification, and I know no greater 
 treat than to hear him sing his own compositions, 
 the powerful expression he gives to them, and 
 the pathos of the tones of his voice, tend to pro- 
 duce an effect on my feelings that no other songs, 
 
 or singer, ever could. used to write 
 
 pretty songs, and certainly has talent, but I main- 
 tain there is more poesy in her prose, at least 
 more fiction, than is to be met with in a folio of 
 poetry. You look shocked at what you think 
 my ingratitude towards her, but if you knew half 
 the cause I have to dislike her, you would not 
 condemn me. You shall, however, know some 
 parts of that serio-comic drama, in which I was 
 forced to play a part ; and, if you listen with
 
 236 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 candour, you must allow I was more sinned 
 against than sinning." 
 
 The curious history that followed this preface 
 is not intended for the public eye, as it contains 
 anecdotes and statements that are calculated to 
 give pain to several individuals the same feeling 
 that dictates the suppression of this most curious 
 episode in Byron's London life, has led to the 
 suppression of many other piquant and amusing 
 disclosures made by him, as well as some of the 
 most severe poetical portraits that ever were 
 drawn of some of his supposed friends, and many 
 of his acquaintances. The vigour with which 
 they are sketched proves that he entered into 
 every fold of the characters of the originals, and 
 that he painted them con amore, but he could not 
 be accused of being a flattering portrait painter. 
 
 The disclosures made by Byron could never be 
 considered confidential, because they were always 
 at the service of the first listener who fell in his 
 way, and who happened to know anything of the 
 parties he talked of. They were not confided 
 with any injunction to secrecy, but were indis- 
 criminately made to his chance companions, 
 nay, he often declared his decided intention of 
 writing copious notes to the Life he had given to 
 his friend Moore, in which the whole truth should 
 be declared of, for, and against, himself and 
 others.
 
 BYRON'S CONFESSIONS 237 
 
 Talking of this gift to Mr. Moore, he asked 
 me if it had made a great sensation in London, 
 and whether people were not greatly alarmed at 
 the thoughts of being shown up in it. He 
 seemed much pleased in anticipating the panic it 
 would occasion, naming all the persons who would 
 be most alarmed. 
 
 I told him he had rendered the most essential 
 service to the cause of morality by his confessions, 
 as a dread of similar disclosures would operate 
 more strongly in putting people on their guard in 
 reposing dangerous confidence in men, than all the 
 homilies that ever were written ; and that people 
 would in future be warned by the phrase of 
 " beware of being Byroned" instead of the old 
 cautions used in past times. "This (continued I) 
 is a sad antithesis to your motto of Crede Byron" 
 He appeared vexed at my observations, and it 
 struck me that he seemed uneasy and out of 
 humour for the next half-hour of our ride. I 
 told him that his gift to Moore had suggested to 
 me the following lines : 
 
 " The ancients were famed for their friendship we're told, 
 Witness Damon and Pythias, and others of old ; 
 But, Byron, 'twas thine friendship's power to extend, 
 Who surrendered thy Life for the sake of a friend." 
 
 He laughed heartily at the lines, and, in 
 laughing at them, recovered his good-humour. 
 " I have never," said Byron, " succeeded to my
 
 238 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 satisfaction in an epigram ; my attempts have not 
 been happy, and knowing Greek as I do, and 
 admiring the Greek epigrams, which excel all 
 others, it is mortifying that I have not succeeded 
 better : but I begin to think that epigrams 
 demand a peculiar talent, and that talent I de- 
 cidedly have not. One of the best in the English 
 language is that of Rogers on Ward ; it has the 
 true Greek talent of expressing by implication 
 what is wished to be conveyed. 
 
 " Ward has no heart, they say ; but I deny it ; 
 He has a heart, and gets his speeches by it." 
 
 This is the ne plus ultra of English epigrams." I 
 told Byron that I had copied Rogers's thought, 
 in two lines on an acquaintance of mine, as 
 follows : 
 
 " The charming Mary has no mind they say ; 
 I prove she has it changes every day." 
 
 This amused him, and he repeated several 
 epigrams, very clever, but which are too severe 
 to be given in these pages. The epigrams of 
 Byron are certainly not equal to his other poetry, 
 they are merely clever, and such as any person of 
 talent might have written, but who except him, 
 in our day, could have written Childe Harold ? 
 No one ; for admitting that the same talent 
 exists, (which I am by no means prepared to 
 admit) the possessor must have experienced the
 
 KYROX'S VULGARITY IN DAILY LIFE 
 
 same destiny, to have brought it to the same 
 perfection. 
 
 The reverses that nature and circumstances 
 entailed on Byron served but to give a higher 
 polish and a finer temper to his genius. All that 
 marred the perfectibility of the man, had per- 
 fected the poet, and this must have been evident 
 to those who approached him, though it had 
 escaped his own observation. Had the choice 
 been left him, I am quite sure he would not have 
 hesitated a moment in choosing the renown of 
 the poet, even at the price of the happiness of 
 the man, as he lived much more in the future 
 than in the present, as do all persons of genius. 
 As it was, he felt dissatisfied with his position, 
 without feeling that it was the whetstone that 
 sharpened his powers ; for with all his affected 
 philosophy, he was a philosopher but in theory, 
 and never reduced it to practice. 
 
 One of the strangest anomalies in Byron was 
 the exquisite taste displayed in his descriptive 
 poetry, and the total want of it that was so 
 visible in his modes of life. Fine scenery seemed 
 to produce little effect on his feelings, though his 
 descriptions are so glowing, and the elegancies 
 and comforts of refined life he appeared to as 
 little understand as value. This last did not 
 arise from a contempt of them, as might be 
 imagined, but from an ignorance of what consti-
 
 240 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 tuted them. I have seen him apparently delighted 
 with the luxurious inventions in furniture, equi- 
 pages, 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 pre- 
 dominated 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 gaudily vulgar thing I ever saw ; 
 the curtains in the worst taste, and the cornice 
 having his family motto of " Crede Byron " sur- 
 mounted by baronial coronets. His carriages 
 and his liveries were in the same bad taste, 
 having an affectation of finery, but mesquin in the 
 details, and tawdry in the ensemble ; and it was 
 evident that he piqued himself on them, by the 
 complacency with which they were referred to. 
 These trifles are touched upon, as being charac- 
 teristic of the man. and would have been passed 
 by, as unworthy of notice, had he not shown 
 that they occupied a considerable portion of his 
 attention. He has even asked us if they were 
 not rich and handsome, and then remarked that 
 no wonder they were so, as they cost him a
 
 THE GREATNESS OF HIS GENIUS 241 
 
 great deal of money. At such moments it was 
 difficult to remember that one was speaking to 
 the author of " Childe Harold." 
 
 If the poet was often forgotten in the levities 
 of the man, the next moment some original 
 observation, cutting repartee, or fanciful simile, 
 reminded one that he who could be ordinary in 
 trifles, (the only points of assimilation between 
 him and the common herd of men,) was only 
 ordinary when he descended to their level ; but 
 when once on subjects worthy his attention, the 
 great poet shone forth, and they who had felt 
 self-complacency at noting the futilities that had 
 lessened the distance between him and them, 
 were forced to see the immeasurable space which 
 separated them, when he allowed his genius to 
 be seen. It is only Byron's pre-eminence as a 
 poet that can give interest to such details as the 
 writer has entered into : if they are written 
 without partiality, they are also given in no 
 unfriendly spirit ; but his defects are noted with 
 the same feeling with which an astronomer would 
 remark the specks that are visible even in the 
 brightest stars, which having examined more 
 minutely than common observers, he wishes to 
 give others the advantage of his discoveries, 
 though the specks he describes have not made 
 him overlook the brightness of the luminaries 
 they sullied, but could not obscure. 
 
 16
 
 242 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 "You know ; of course, (said Byron,) 
 
 everyone does. I hope you don't like him ; 
 water and oil are not more antipathetic than he 
 and I are to each other. I admit that his abilities 
 are great ; they are of the very first order ; but 
 he has that which almost always accompanies 
 great talents, and generally proves a counter- 
 balance to them an overweening ambition, 
 which renders him not over-nice about the 
 means, as long as he attains the end ; and this 
 facility will prevent his ever being a truly great 
 man, though it may abridge his road to what is 
 considered greatness official dignity. You shall 
 see some verses in which I have not spared him, 
 and yet I have only said what I believe to be 
 strictly correct. Poets are said to succeed best 
 in fiction ; but this I deny ; at least I always 
 write best when truth inspires me, and my satires, 
 which are founded on truth, have more spirit 
 than all my other productions, for they were 
 
 written con amore. My intimacy with the 
 
 family (continued Byron) let me into many of 
 
 's secrets, and they did not raise him in my 
 
 estimation."
 
 [ 243 ] 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 Lords Holland and Erskine Walter Savage Landor Byron's 
 mode of wreaking vengeance -La Marquise du DefTand 
 The Lake School Ladies' poetry Voltaire on authors An 
 interesting folio Society versus law " A fellow-feeling makes 
 them wondrous kind " Buxom health and lanky languor 
 Ladies a la Rubens "Afens sana in corpore sano " The price 
 of fame The best legacy A French proverb " Love is 
 only curiosity " Count d'Orsay's journal The secret of 
 English ennui Slaves of fashion Creatures of circumstance 
 Lady Melbourne Women's hearts. 
 
 " ONE of the few persons in London, whose 
 society served to correct my predisposition to 
 misanthropy, was Lord Holland.* There is 
 
 * Henry Richard Vassall Fox, third Lord Holland, was born 
 November zist, 1773, and died October 22nd, 1840. He was an 
 eminent Whig and as a great a lover of literature as his uncle, 
 Charles James Fox. He held the office of Lord Privy Seal in the 
 Administration of All the Talents, and that of Chancellor of the 
 Duchy of Lancaster in the Administration of Earl Grey and 
 Viscount Melbourne. The most noteworthy works from his pen 
 were translations from the Spanish, published when a young man, 
 and " Memoirs of the Whig Party," the production of his mature 
 years. During his lifetime Holland House was the meeting place 
 of Liberal politicians and men of letters, and its influence is set 
 forth in Macaulay's essay upon it. The personal ambition of Lord
 
 244 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 more benignity, and a greater share of the milk 
 of human kindness in his nature than in that 
 of any man I know, always excepting Lord 
 Blessington. Then there is such a charm in his 
 manners, his mind is so highly cultivated, his 
 conversation so agreeable, and his temper so equal 
 and bland, that he never fails to send away his 
 guests content with themselves and delighted 
 with him. I never (continued Byron) heard a 
 difference of opinion about Lord Holland ; and 
 I am sure no one could know him without liking 
 him. Lord Erskine, in talking to me of Lord 
 Holland, observed, that it was his extreme good- 
 nature alone that prevented his taking as high a 
 political position as his talents entitled him to fill. 
 This quality (continued Byron) will never prevent 
 
 's rising in the world ; so that his talents 
 
 will have a fair chance. 
 
 " It is difficult (said Byron) when one detests 
 an author not to detest his works. There are 
 some that I dislike so cordially, that I am aware 
 of my incompetency to give an impartial opinion 
 of their writings. Southey, par exemple, is one of 
 
 Holland is expressed in the following lines in his handwriting 
 which were found after his death : 
 
 " Nephew of Fox, and friend of Grey, 
 
 Enough my meed of fame, 
 If those who deigned to observe me say 
 I injured neither name."
 
 VOW OF VENGEANCE AGAINST SOUTH EY 245 
 
 these. When travelling in Italy, he was reported 
 to me as having circulated some reports much to 
 my disadvantage, and still more to that of two 
 ladies of my acquaintance ; all of which, through 
 the kind medium of some good-natured friends, 
 were brought to my ears ; and I have vowed 
 eternal vengeance against him, and all who 
 uphold him ; which vengeance has been poured 
 forth, in phials of wrath, in the shape of epigrams 
 and lampoons, some of which you shall see. 
 When anyone attacks me, on the spur of the 
 moment I sit down and write all the mechancete 
 that comes into my head ; and, as some of these 
 sallies have merit, they amuse me, and are too 
 good to be torn or burned, and so are kept, and 
 see the light long after the feeling that dictated 
 them has subsided. All my malice evaporates 
 in the effusions of my pen : but I dare say those 
 that excite it would prefer any other mode of 
 vengeance. 
 
 " At Pisa, a friend told me that Walter Savage 
 Landor had declared he either would not, or 
 could not, read my works. I asked my officious 
 friend if he was sure which it was that Landor 
 said, as the would not was not offensive, and the 
 could not was highly so. After some reflection, 
 he, of course en ami, chose the most disagreeable 
 signification ; and I marked down Landor in the 
 tablet of memory as a person to whom a coup-de-
 
 246 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 patte must be given in my forthcoming work, 
 though he really is a man whose brilliant talents 
 and profound erudition I cannot help admiring as 
 much as I respect his character various proofs 
 of the generosity, manliness, and independence 
 of which has reached me ; so you see I can 
 render justice (en petite comite] even to a man 
 who says he could not read my works ; this, at 
 least, shows some good feeling, if the petit 
 vengeance of attacking him in my work cannot 
 be defended ; but my attacking proves the truth 
 of the observation made by a French writer 
 that we don't like people for the merit we discover 
 in them, but for that which they find in us." 
 
 When Byron was one day abusing most 
 
 vehemently, we accused him of undue severity ; 
 and he replied, he was only deterred from 
 treating him much more severely by the fear of 
 being indicted under the Act of Cruelty to 
 Animals ! 
 
 " I am quite sure (said Byron) that many of 
 our worst actions and our worst thoughts are 
 caused by friends. An enemy can never do as 
 much injury, or cause as much pain : if he speaks 
 ill of one, it is set down as an exaggeration of 
 malice, and therefore does little harm, and he has 
 no opportunity of telling one any of the dis- 
 agreeable things that are said in one's absence ; 
 but a friend has such an amiable candour in
 
 " SA VE ME FROM MY FRIENDS " 247 
 
 admitting the faults least known, and often un- 
 suspected, and of denying or defending with 
 acharnement those that can neither be denied nor 
 defended, that he is sure to do one mischief. 
 Then he thinks himself bound to retail and 
 detail every disagreeable remark or story he 
 hears, and generally under the injunction of 
 secrecy ; so that one is tormented without the 
 power of bringing the slanderer to account, unless 
 by a breach of confidence. I am always tempted 
 to exclaim, with Socrates, ' My friends ! there 
 are no friends !' when I hear and see the 
 advantages of friendship. 
 
 " It is odd (continued Byron) that people do 
 not seem aware that the person who repeats to a 
 friend an offensive observation, uttered when he 
 was absent, without any idea that he was likely 
 to hear it, is much more blamable than the 
 person who originally said it ; of course I except 
 a friend who hears a charge brought against one's 
 honour, and who comes and openly states what 
 he has heard, that it may be refuted: but this 
 friends seldom do ; for, as that Queen of egoists, 
 La Marquise du Deffand, truly observed * Ceux 
 qu'on nomme amis sont ceux par qui on n'a pas 
 a craindre d'etre assassine, mais qui laisseroient 
 faire les assassins.' Friends are like diamonds ; 
 all wish to possess them : but few can or will 
 pay their price ; and there never was more
 
 248 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 wisdom embodied in a phrase than in that which 
 says ' Defend me from my friends, and I will 
 defend myself from my enemies.' 3 
 
 Talking of poetry, (Byron said) that " next to 
 the affected simplicity of the Lake School, he 
 disliked prettinesses, or what are called flowers of 
 poetry ; they are only admissible in the poetry 
 of ladies, (said he,) which should always have a 
 sprinkling of dew-gemmed leaves and flowers of 
 rainbow hues, with tuneful birds and gorgeous 
 
 butterflies " Here he laughed like a child, and 
 
 added, " I suppose you would never forgive me 
 if I finished the sentence, sweet emblems of 
 fair woman's looks and mind." Having joined 
 in the laugh, which was irresistible from the 
 mock heroic air he assumed, I asked him how 
 he could prove any resemblance between tuneful 
 birds, gorgeous butterflies, and woman's face or 
 mind. He immediately replied, " Have I not 
 printed a certain line, in which I say, ' the music 
 breathing from her face ' ? and do not all, even 
 philosophers, assert, that there is harmony in 
 beauty, nay, that there is no beauty without it ? 
 Now tuneful birds are musical ; ergo, that simile 
 holds good as far as the face, and the butterfly 
 must stand for the mind, brilliant, light, and 
 wandering. I say nothing of its being the emblem 
 of the soul, because I have not quite made up 
 my mind that women have souls ; but, in short,
 
 "FAME IS THE SPUR" 249 
 
 flowers and all that is fragile and beautiful must 
 remind one of women. So do not be offended 
 with my comparison. 
 
 " But to return to the subject, (continued 
 Byron,) you do not, cannot like what are called 
 flowers in poetry. I try to avoid them as much 
 as possible in mine, and I hope you think that I 
 have succeeded." I answered that he had given 
 oaks to Parnassus instead of flowers, and while 
 disclaiming the compliment it seemed to gratify 
 him. 
 
 " A successful work (said Byron) makes a man 
 a wretch for life : it engenders in him a thirst for 
 notoriety and praise, that precludes the possibility 
 of repose ; this spurs him on to attempt others, 
 which are always expected to be superior to the 
 first; hence arises disappointment, as expectation 
 being too much excited is rarely gratified, and, in 
 the present day, one failure is placed as a counter- 
 balance to fifty successful efforts. Voltaire was 
 right (continued Byron) when he said that the 
 fate of a literary man resembled that of the flying- 
 fish ; if he dives in the water the fish devour him, 
 and if he rises in the air he is attacked by the 
 birds. Voltaire (continued Byron) had personal 
 experience of the persecution a successful author 
 must undergo ; but malgre all this, he continued 
 to keep alive the sensation he had excited in the 
 literary world, and, while at Ferney, thought only
 
 250 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 of astonishing Paris. Montesquieu has said ' that 
 mains on pense plus on park! Voltaire was a 
 proof, indeed I have known many (said Byron), 
 of the falseness of this observation, for who ever 
 wrote or talked as much as Voltaire ? But Mon- 
 tesquieu, when he wrote his remark, thought not 
 of literary men ; he was thinking of the hazards 
 of society, who certainly think less and talk more 
 than all others. I was once very much amused 
 (said Byron) by overhearing the conversation of 
 two country ladies, in company with a celebrated 
 author, who happened to be that evening very 
 taciturn : one remarked to the other, how strange 
 it was that a person reckoned so clever, should be 
 so silent ! and the other answered, Oh ! he has 
 nothing left to say, he has sold all his thoughts to 
 his publishers. This you will allow was a philo- 
 sophical way of explaining the silence of an 
 author. 
 
 " One of the things that most annoyed me in 
 London (said Byron) was the being continually 
 asked to give my opinion on the works of con- 
 temporaries. I got out of the difficulty as well 
 as I could, by some equivocal answer that might 
 be taken in two ways ; but even this prudence 
 did not save me, and I have been accused of envy 
 and jealousy of authors, of whose works, God 
 knows, I was far from being envious. I have 
 also been suspected of jealousy towards ancient
 
 A CURIOSITY OF LITERATURE 251 
 
 as well as modern writers ; but Pope, whose 
 poems I really envy, and whose works I admire, 
 perhaps more than any living or dead English 
 writer, they have never found out that I was 
 jealous of, nay, probably, as I always praise him, 
 they suppose I do not seriously admire him, as 
 insincerity on all points is universally attributed 
 to me. 
 
 " I have often thought of writing a book to be 
 filled with all the charges brought against me 
 in England (said Byron) ; it would make an 
 interesting folio, with my notes, and might serve 
 posterity as a proof of the charity, good-nature, 
 and candour of Christian England in the nine- 
 teenth century. Our laws are bound to think 
 a man innocent until he is proved to be guilty ; 
 but our English society condemns him before 
 trial, which is a summary proceeding that saves 
 trouble. 
 
 " However, I must say, (continued Byron,) 
 that it is only those to whom any superiority is 
 accorded, that are prejudged or treated with 
 undue severity in London, for mediocrity meets 
 with the utmost indulgence, on the principle of 
 sympathy, ' a fellow-feeling makes them wondrous 
 kind.' The moment my wife left me, I was 
 assailed by all the falsehoods that malice could 
 invent or slander publish ; how many wives have 
 since left their husbands, and husbands their
 
 252 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 wives, without either of the parties being black- 
 ened by defamation, the public having the sense 
 to perceive that a husband and wife's living 
 together or separate can only concern the parties, 
 or their immediate families ! but in my case, no 
 sooner did Lady Byron take herself off than my 
 character went off, or rather was carried off, not 
 by force of arms, but by force of tongues and 
 pens too ; and there was no crime too dark to be 
 attributed to me by the moral English, to account 
 for so very common an occurrence as a separation 
 in high life. 
 
 " I was thought a devil, because Lady Byron 
 was allowed to be an angel ; and that it formed a 
 pretty antithesis, mais he las ! there are neither 
 angels nor devils on earth, though some of one's 
 acquaintance might tempt one into the belief of 
 the existence of the latter. After twenty, it is 
 difficult to believe in that of the former, though 
 the first and last objects of one's affection have 
 some of its attributes. Imagination (said Byron) 
 resembles hope when unclouded, it gilds all that 
 it touches with its own bright hue : mine makes 
 me see beauty wherever youth and health have 
 impressed their stamp ; and after all I am not 
 very far from the goddess, when I am with her 
 handmaids, for such they certainly are. Senti- 
 mentalists may despise ' buxom health, with rosy 
 hue,' which has something dairy-maid like, I
 
 THE BEST OF DOWERS 253 
 
 confess, in the sound, (continued he) for buxom, 
 however one may like the reality, is not 
 euphonious, but I have the association of plump- 
 ness, rosy hue, good spirits, and good humour, 
 all brought before me in the homely phrase ; and 
 all these united give me a better idea of beauty 
 than lanky languor, sicklied o'er with the pale 
 cast of thought, and bad health, and bad humour, 
 which are synonymous, making to-morrow cheer- 
 less as to-day. Then see some of our fine ladies, 
 whose nerves are more active than their brains, 
 who talk sentiment, and ask you to * administer 
 to a mind diseased, and pluck from the memory 
 a rooted sorrow/ when it is the body that is 
 diseased, and the rooted sorrow is some chronic 
 malady : these, I own (continued Byron), alarm 
 me, and a delicate woman, however prettily it 
 may sound, harrows up my feelings with a host 
 of shadowy ills to come, of vapours, hysterics, 
 nerves, megrims, intermitting fevers, and all the 
 ills that wait upon poor weak women, who, when 
 sickly, are generally weak in more senses than 
 one. 
 
 " The best dower a woman can bring is health 
 and good humour ; the latter, whatever we may 
 say of the triumphs of mind, depends on the 
 former, as, according to the old poem 
 
 (( C 
 
 Temper ever waits on health, 
 As luxury depends on wealth.'
 
 254 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 But mind (said Byron) when I object to delicate 
 women, that is to say, to women of delicate 
 health, alias sickly, I don't mean to say that I 
 like coarse, fat ladies, a la Rubens, whose minds 
 must be impenetrable, from the mass of matter 
 in which they are incased. No ! I like an active 
 and healthy mind, in an active and healthy 
 person, each extending its beneficial influence 
 over the other, and maintaining their equilibrium, 
 the body illumined by the light within, but that 
 light not let out by any ' chinks made by time ;'* 
 in short, I like, as who does not, (continued 
 Byron,) a handsome healthy woman, with an 
 intelligent and intelligible mind, who can do 
 something more than what is said a French 
 woman can only do, habille, babille, and dishabille, 
 who is not obliged to have recourse to dress, 
 shopping and visits, to get through a day, and 
 soirees, operas, and flirting to pass an evening. 
 You see, I am moderate in my desires ; I only 
 wish for perfection. 
 
 " There was a time (said Byron) when fame 
 appeared the most desirable of all acquisitions to 
 me ; it was my ' being's end and aim/ but now 
 how worthless does it appear ! Alas ! how true 
 are the lines 
 
 * " The soul's dark cottage, battered and decayed, 
 
 Lets in new light through chinks that time has made." 
 
 WALLER.
 
 THE DISENCHANTMENTS OF LIFE 
 
 " ' La Nominanza e color d'erba, 
 
 Che viene e va ; e quei la discolora 
 Per cui vien fuori della terra acerba.' 
 
 And dearly is fame bought, as all have found who 
 have acquired even a small portion of it, 
 
 " ' Che seggendo in piuma 
 
 In Fama non si vien, ne sotto coltre.' 
 
 No ! with sleepless nights, excited nerves, and 
 morbid feelings, is fame purchased, and envy, 
 hatred, and jealousy follow the luckless possessor. 
 
 " ' O ciechi, il tanto affaticar che giova ? 
 Tutti tornate alia gran madre antica, 
 E il vostro nome appena si ritrova.' 
 
 Nay, how often has a tomb been denied to those 
 whose names have immortalized their country, 
 or else granted when shame compelled the tardy 
 justice ! Yet, after all, fame is but like all other 
 pursuits, ending in disappointment its worthless- 
 ness only discovered when attained, and 
 
 " ' Sensa la qual chi sua vita consuma 
 Cotal vestigio in terra di se lascia 
 Qual fummo in acre, ed in acqua la schiuma.' 
 
 " People complain of the brevity of life, (said 
 Byron,) should they not rather complain of its 
 length, as its enjoyments cease long before the 
 halfway-house of life is passed, unless one has 
 the luck to die young, ere the illusions that 
 render existence supportable have faded away,
 
 256 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 and are replaced by experience, that dull 
 monitress, that ever comes too late ? While youth 
 steers the bark of life, and passion impels her on, 
 experience keeps aloof; but when youth and 
 passion are fled, and we no longer require her 
 aid, she comes to reproach us with the past, to 
 disgust us with the present, and to alarm us 
 with the future." 
 
 " We buy wisdom with happiness, and who 
 would purchase it at such a price ? To be happy, 
 we must forget the past, and think not of the 
 future ; and who that has a soul, or mind, can 
 do this ? No one (continued Byron) ; and this 
 proves, that those who have either, know no 
 happiness on this earth. Memory precludes 
 happiness, whatever Rogers may say to the 
 contrary, for it borrows from the past, to em- 
 bitter the present, bringing back to us all the 
 grief that has most wounded, or the happiness 
 that has most charmed us ; the first leaving its 
 sting, and of the second, 
 
 " ' Nessun maggior dolore, 
 
 Che ricordarsi del tempo felice, 
 Nella miseria.'* 
 
 Let us look back (continued Byron) to those days 
 of grief, the recollection of which now pains us, 
 and we shall find that time- has only cicatrized, 
 
 * "Inferno," Canto V., lines 121-123.
 
 HOW TO LIVE WITH FRIENDS 
 
 but not effaced the scars ; and if we reflect on 
 the happiness, that seen through the vista of the 
 past seems now so bright, memory will tell us 
 that, at the actual time referred to, we were far 
 from thinking so highly of it, nay, that at that 
 very period we were obliged to draw drafts on 
 the future, to support the then present, though 
 now that epoch, tinged by the rays of memory, 
 seems so brilliant, and renders the present more 
 sombre by contrast. 
 
 "We are so constituted (said Byron) that we 
 know not the value of our possessions until we 
 have lost them. Let us think of the friends that 
 death has snatched from us, whose loss has left 
 aching voids in the heart never again to be filled 
 up ; and memory will tell us that we prized not 
 their presence, while we were blessed with it, 
 though, could the grave give them back, now 
 that we had learnt to estimate their value, all 
 else could be borne, and we believe (because it is 
 impossible) that happiness might once more be 
 ours. We should live with our friends, (said 
 Byron,) not as the worldly-minded philosopher 
 says, as though they may one day become our 
 enemies, but as though we may one day lose 
 them ; and this maxim, strictly followed, will 
 not only render our lives happier while together, 
 but will save the survivors from those bitter pangs 
 that memory conjures up, of slights and un- 
 
 17
 
 258 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 kindnesses offered to those we have lost, when 
 too late for atonement, arming remorse with 
 double force because it is too late." 
 
 It was in such conversations that Byron was 
 seen in his natural character; the feeling, the 
 tenderness of his nature shone forth at such 
 moments, and his natural character, like the 
 diamond when breathed upon, though dimmed 
 for a time, soon recovered its purity, and showed 
 its original lustre, perhaps the more for having 
 been for a moment obscured. 
 
 How much has Byron to unlearn ere he can 
 hope for peace ! Then he is proud of his false 
 knowledge. I call it false, because it neither 
 makes him better nor happier, and true knowledge 
 ought to do the former, though I admit it cannot 
 the latter. We are not relieved by the certainty 
 that we have an incurable disease ; on the 
 contrary, we cease to apply remedies, and so let 
 the evil increase. So it is with human nature : 
 by believing ourselves devoted to selfishness, we 
 supinely sink into its withering and inglorious 
 thraldom ; when, by encouraging kindly affec- 
 tions, without analyzing their source, we strengthen 
 and fix them in the heart, and find their genial 
 influence extending around, contributing to the 
 happiness and well-being of others, and reflecting 
 back some portion on ourselves. 
 
 Byron's heart is running to waste for want of
 
 BYRON'S INCONSISTENCY 
 
 being allowed to expend itself on his fellow- 
 creatures ; it is naturally capacious, and teeming 
 with affection ; but the worldly wisdom he has 
 acquired has checked its course, and it preys on 
 his own happiness by reminding him continually 
 of the aching void in his breast. With a con- 
 temptible opinion of human nature, he requires 
 a perfectibility in the persons to whom he attaches 
 himself, that those who think most highly of it 
 never expect : he gets easily disgusted, and when 
 once the persons fall short of his expectations, 
 his feelings are thrown back on himself, and, in 
 their re-action, create new bitterness. 
 
 I have remarked to Byron that it strikes me as 
 a curious anomaly, that he, who thinks ill of 
 mankind, should require more from it than do 
 those who think well of it en masse ; and that 
 each new disappointment at discovery of baseness 
 sends him back to solitude with some of the 
 feelings with which a savage creature would seek 
 its lair ; while those who judge it more favourably, 
 instead of feeling bitterness at the disappointments 
 we must all experience, more or less, when we 
 have the weakness to depend wholly on others 
 for happiness, smile at their own delusion, and 
 blot out, as with a sponge, from memory that 
 such things were, and were most sweet while we 
 believed them, and open a fresh account, a new 
 leaf in the ledger of life, always indulging in
 
 2 6o CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 the hope that it may not be balanced like the 
 
 last. 
 
 We should judge others not by self, for that is 
 deceptive, but by their general conduct and 
 character. We rarely do this, because with that 
 le besom (f aimer, which all ardent minds have, 
 we bestow our affections on the first person that 
 chance throws in our path, and endow them with 
 every good and noble quality, which qualities 
 were unknown to them, and only existed in our 
 own imaginations. 
 
 We discover, when too late, our own want of 
 discrimination ; but, instead of blaming ourselves, 
 we throw the whole censure on those whom we 
 had overrated, and declare war against the whole 
 species because we had chosen ill, and " loved 
 not wisely, but too well." When such disap- 
 pointments occur, and, alas ! they are so frequent 
 as to inure us to them, if we were to reflect on 
 all the antecedent conduct and modes of thinking 
 of those in whom we had " garnered up our 
 hearts," we should find that they were in general 
 consistent, and that we had indulged erroneous 
 expectations, from having formed too high an 
 estimate of them, and consequently were dis- 
 appointed. 
 
 A modern writer has happily observed that 
 " the sourest disappointments are made out of 
 our sweetest hopes, as the most excellent vinegar
 
 FAITH IN HUMAN NATURE 261 
 
 is made from damaged wine." We have all 
 proved that hope ends but in frustration, but this 
 should only give us a more humble opinion of 
 our own powers of discrimination, instead of 
 making us think ill of human nature : we may 
 believe that goodness, disinterestedness, and 
 affection exist in the world, although we have 
 not had the good fortune to encounter them in 
 the persons on whom we had lavished our regard. 
 This is the best, because it is the safest and most 
 consolatory philosophy ; it prevents our thinking 
 ill of our species, and precludes that corroding of 
 our feelings which is the inevitable result ; for as 
 we all belong to the family of human nature, we 
 cannot think ill of it without deteriorating our own. 
 If we have had the misfortune to meet with 
 some persons whose ingratitude and baseness 
 might serve to lower our opinion of our fellow- 
 creatures, have we not encountered others whose 
 nobleness, generosity, and truth might redeem 
 them ? A few such examples, nay, one alone, 
 such as I have had the happiness to know, 
 taught me to judge favourably of mankind ; and 
 Byron, with all his scepticism as to the perfecti- 
 bility of human nature, allowed that the person 
 to whom I allude was an exception to the rule 
 of the belief he had formed as to selfishness or 
 worldly-mindedness being the spring of action in 
 man.
 
 262 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 The grave has closed over him who shook 
 Byron's scepticism in perfect goodness, and 
 established for ever my implicit faith in it ; but, 
 in the debts of gratitude engraved in deep 
 characters on memory, the impression his virtues 
 have given me of human nature is indelibly 
 registered, an impression of which his conduct 
 was the happiest illustration, as the recollection 
 of it must ever be the antidote to misanthropy. 
 We have need of such examples to reconcile us 
 to the heartless ingratitude that all have, in a 
 greater or less degree, been exposed to, and which 
 is so calculated to disgust us with our species. 
 How, then, must the heart reverence the memory 
 of those who, in life, spread the shield of their 
 goodness between us and sorrow and evil, and, 
 even in death, have left us the hallowed recollec- 
 tion of their virtues, to enable us to think well 
 of our fellow-creatures ! 
 
 " Of the rich legacies the dying leave, 
 Remembrance of their virtues is the best." 
 
 We are as posterity to those who have gone 
 before us the avanf-courierr on that journey 
 that we must all undertake. It is permitted us 
 to speak of absent friends with the honest warmth 
 of commendatory truth; then surely we may 
 claim that privilege for the dead,* privilege 
 which every grateful heart must pant to establish,
 
 " CURIOSITY KILLS ITSELF " 263 
 
 when the just tribute we pay to departed worth 
 is but as the outpouring of a spirit that is over- 
 powered by its own intensity, and whose praise 
 or blame falls equally unregarded on u the dull 
 cold ear of death." They who are in the grave 
 cannot be flattered ; and if their qualities were 
 such as escaped the observance of the public eye, 
 are not those who, in the shade of domestic 
 privacy, had opportunities of appreciating them, 
 entitled to one of the few consolations left to 
 .survivors that of offering the homage of admira- 
 tion and praise to virtues that were beyond all 
 praise, and goodness that, while in existence, 
 proved a source of happiness, and, in death, a 
 consolation, by the assurance they have given of 
 meeting their reward ? 
 
 Byron said to-day that he had met, in a French 
 writer, an idea that had amused him very much, 
 and that he thought had as much truth as 
 originality in it : he quoted the passage, " La 
 curiosite est suicide de sa nature, et 1'amour n'est 
 que la curiosite." He laughed, and rubbed his 
 hands, and repeated, " Yes, the Frenchman is 
 right. Curiosity kills itself; and love is only 
 curiosity, as is proved by its end." 
 
 I told Bvron that it was in vain that he affected 
 
 j 
 
 to believe what he repeated, as I thought too well 
 of him to imagine him to be serious. 
 
 " At all events," said Byron, " you must admit
 
 264 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 that, of all passions, love is the most selfish. It 
 begins, continues, and ends in selfishness. Who 
 ever thinks of the happiness of the object apart 
 from his own, or who attends to it ? While the 
 passion continues, the lover wishes the object of 
 his attachment happy, because, were she visibly 
 otherwise, it would detract from his own plea- 
 sures. The French writer understood mankind 
 well, who said that they resembled the Grand 
 Turk in an opera, who, quitting his sultana for 
 another, replied to her tears, * Dissimulez votre 
 peine, et respectez mes plaisirs.' This," con- 
 tinued Byron, " is but too true a satire on men ; 
 for when love is over, 
 
 " A few years older, 
 Ah ! how much colder 
 He could behold her 
 For whom he sigh'd ! 
 
 ;< Depend on it, my doggerel rhymes have more 
 truth than most that I have written. I have 
 been told that love never exists without jealousy ; 
 f this be true, it proves that love must be founded 
 on selfishness, for jealousy surely never proceeds 
 from any other feeling than selfishness. We see 
 that the person we like is pleased and happy in 
 the society of someone else, and we prefer to see 
 her unhappy with us, than to allow her to enjoy 
 is not this selfish ? Why is it," continued 
 Byron, that lovers are at first only happy in
 
 LOVE "A SORT OF ELECTRICITY" 265 
 
 each other's society ? It is, that their mutual 
 flattery and egoism gratify their vanity ; and not 
 finding this stimulus elsewhere, they become 
 dependent on each other for it. When they get 
 better acquainted, and have exhausted all their 
 compliments, without the power of creating or 
 feeling any new illusions, or even continuing the 
 old, they no longer seek each other's presence 
 from preference ; habit alone draws them together, 
 and they drag on a chain that is tiresome to 
 both, but which often neither has the courage to 
 break. 
 
 " We have all a certain portion of love in our 
 natures, which portion we invariably bestow on 
 the object that most charms us, which, as invari- 
 ably, is self; and though some degree of love 
 may be extended to another, it is only because 
 that other administers to our vanity ; and the 
 sentiment is but a reaction, a sort of electricity 
 that emits the sparks with which we are charged 
 to another body ; and when the retorts lose 
 their power which means, in plain sense, when 
 the flattery of the recipient no longer gratifies us 
 and yawning, that fearful abyss in love, is 
 visible, the passion is over. Depend on it," con- 
 tinued Byron, " the only love that never changes 
 its object is self-love ; and the disappointments it 
 meets with make a more lasting impression than 
 all others."
 
 266 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 I told Byron that I expected him to-morrow to 
 disprove every word he had uttered to-day. He 
 laughed, and declared that his profession of faith 
 was contained in the verses, " Could love for 
 ever ;" that he wished he could think otherwise, 
 but so it was. 
 
 Byron affects scepticism in love and friendship, 
 and yet is, I am persuaded, capable of making 
 great sacrifices for both. He has an unaccount- 
 able passion for misrepresenting his own feelings 
 and motives, and exaggerates his defects more 
 than any enemy could do : he is often angry 
 because we do not believe all he says against 
 himself, and would be, I am sure, delighted to 
 meet someone credulous enough to give credence 
 to all he asserts or insinuates with regard to his 
 own misdoings. 
 
 If Byron were not a great poet, the charla- 
 tanism 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 ridicu- 
 lous, and one feels mortified at finding that he, 
 who could elevate the thoughts of his readers to 
 the empyrean, should fall below the ordinary 
 standard of every-day life, by a vain and futile 
 attempt to pass for something that all who know 
 him rejoice that he is not ; while, by his sublime 
 genius and real goodness of heart, which are
 
 COUNT D'ORSAYS JOURNAL 267 
 
 made visible every day, he establishes claims on 
 the admiration and sympathy of mankind that 
 few can resist. If he knew his own power, he 
 would disdain such unworthy means of attracting 
 attention, and trust to his merit for command- 
 ing it. 
 
 " I know not when I have been so much 
 interested and amused," said Byron, " as in the 
 perusal of Count D'Orsay's journal : it is one of 
 the choicest productions I ever read, and is 
 astonishing as being written by a minor, as I 
 find he was under age when he penned it. The 
 most piquant vein of pleasantry runs through it ; 
 the ridicules and they are many of our dear 
 compatriots are touched with the pencil of a 
 master ; but what pleases me most is, that 
 neither the reputation of man nor woman is 
 compromised, nor any disclosures made that 
 could give pain. He has admirably penetrated 
 the secret of English ennui" continued Byron, 
 " a secret that is one to the English only, as I 
 defy any foreigner, blessed with a common share 
 of intelligence, to come in contact with them 
 without discovering it. The English know that 
 they are ennuyh, but vanity prevents their dis- 
 covering that they are ennuyeux, and they will 
 be little disposed to pardon the person who 
 enlightens them on this point. 
 
 " Count D'Orsay ought to publish this work,"
 
 268 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 continued Byron, " for two reasons : the first, 
 that it will be sure to get known that he has 
 written a piquant journal, and people will imagine 
 it to be a malicious libel, instead of being a 
 playful satire, as the English are prone to fancy 
 the worst, from a consciousness of not meriting 
 much forbearance ; the second reason is, that the 
 impartial view of their foibles, taken by a stranger 
 who cannot be actuated by any of the little 
 jealousies that influence the members of their 
 own coteries, might serve to correct them, though 
 I fear reflexion faife, there is not much hope of 
 this. It is an extraordinary anomaly," said 
 Byron, " that people who are really naturally 
 inclined to good, as I believe the English are, 
 and who have the advantages of a better education 
 than foreigners receive, should practise more ill- 
 nature and display more heartlessness than the 
 inhabitants of any other country. This is all the 
 effect of the artificial state of society in England, 
 and the exclusive system has increased the evils 
 of it tenfold. We accuse the French of frivolity," 
 continued Byron, " because they are governed by 
 fashion ; but this extends only to their dress, 
 whereas the English allow it to govern their 
 pursuits, habits, and modes of thinking and 
 acting : in short, it is the Alpha and Omega of 
 all they think, do, or will : their society, resi- 
 dences, nay, their very friends, are chosen by this
 
 THE CAPRICES OF FASHION 269 
 
 criterion, and old and tried friends, wanting its 
 stamp, are voted de trop. Fashion admits women 
 of more than dubious reputations, and well-born 
 men with none, into circles where virtue and 
 honour, not a la mode, might find it difficult to 
 get placed ; and if (on hearing the reputation of 
 Lady This, or Mrs. That, or rather want of 
 reputation, canvassed over by their associates) you 
 ask why they are received, you will be told it 
 is because they are seen everywhere they are 
 the fashion. 
 
 " I have known," continued Byron, "men and 
 women in London received in the first circles, 
 who, by their birth, talents, or manners, had no 
 one claim to such a distinction, merely because 
 they had been seen in one or two houses, to 
 which, by some manoeuvring, they got the 
 entree ; but I must add, they were not remark- 
 able for good looks, or superiority in any way, 
 for if they had been, it would have elicited 
 attention to their want of other claims, and 
 closed the doors of fashion against them. I 
 recollect," said Byron, " on my first entering 
 fashionable life, being surprised at the (to me) 
 unaccountable distinctions I saw made between 
 ladies placed in peculiar and precisely similar 
 situations. I have asked some of the fair leaders 
 
 of fashion, ' Why do you exclude Lady , 
 
 and admit Lady , as they are both in the
 
 2/0 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 same scrape?' With that amiable indifference 
 to cause and effect that distinguishes the generality 
 of your sex, the answer has invariably been, ' Oh! 
 we admit Lady - - because all our set receive 
 her ; and exclude Lady - - because they will 
 not.' I have pertinaciously demanded, * Well, 
 but you allow their claims are equal ?' and the 
 reply has been, * Certainly ; and we believe the 
 excluded lady to be the better of the two.' Mais 
 que vou/ez-vous ? she is not received, and the 
 other is ; it is all chance or luck : and this," 
 continued Byron, " is the state of society in 
 London, and such the line of demarcation drawn 
 between the pure and the impure, when chance 
 or luck, as Lady - honestly owned to me, 
 decided whether a woman lost her caste or 
 not. 
 
 " I am not much of a prude," said Byron, 
 " but I declare that, for the general good, I 
 think that all women who had forfeited their 
 reputations ought to lose their places in society ; 
 but this rule ought never to admit of an ex- 
 ception : it becomes an injustice and hardship 
 when it does, and loses all effect as a warning 
 or preventive. I have known young married 
 women, when cautioned by friends on the pro- 
 bability of losing caste by such or such a step, 
 quote the examples of Lady This, or Mrs. That, 
 who had been more imprudent, (for imprudence
 
 CREATURES OF CIRCUMSTANCE 271 
 
 is the new name for guilt in England,) and yet 
 one saw these ladies received everywhere, and 
 vain were precepts with such examples. 
 
 " People may suppose," continued Byron, 
 " that I respect not morals, because unfortunately 
 I have sometimes violated them : perhaps from 
 this very circumstance I respect them the more, 
 as we never value riches until our prodigality 
 has made us feel their loss ; and a lesson of 
 prudence coming from him who had squandered 
 thousands, would have more weight than whole 
 pages written by one who had not personal 
 experience : so I maintain that persons who have 
 erred are most competent to point out errors. It 
 is my respect for morality that makes me so 
 indignant against its vile substitute cant, with 
 which I wage war, and this the good-natured 
 world chooses to consider as a sign of my 
 wickedness. 
 
 " We are all the creatures of circumstance," 
 continued Byron ; " the greater part of our errors 
 are caused, if not excused, by events and situations 
 over which we have had little control ; * the 
 world sees the faults, but sees not what led to 
 them : therefore I am always lenient to crimes 
 that have brought their own punishment, while 
 
 * " Men are the sport of circumstances, when 
 The circumstances seem the sport of men." 
 
 Don Juan, Canto V., stanza xvii.
 
 272 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 I am little disposed to pity those who think 
 they atone for their own sins by exposing those 
 of others, and add cant and hypocrisy to the 
 catalogue of their vices. Let not a woman who 
 has gone astray, 'without detection, affect to disdain 
 a less fortunate, though not more culpable, female. 
 She who is unblemished should pity her who 
 has fallen, and she whose conscience tells her she 
 is not spotless should show forbearance ; but it 
 enrages me to see women whose conduct is, or 
 has been, infinitely more blamable than that of 
 the persons they denounce, affecting a prudery 
 towards others that they had not in the hour of 
 need for themselves. It was this forbearance 
 towards her own sex that charmed me in Lady 
 Melbourne : she had always some kind interpre- 
 tation for e-very action that would admit of one, 
 and pity or silence when aught else was im- 
 practicable. 
 
 " Lady , beautiful and spotless herself, 
 always struck me as wanting that pity she could 
 so well afford. Not that I ever thought her ill- 
 natured or spiteful ; but I thought there was a 
 certain severity in her demarcations, which her 
 acknowledged purity rendered less necessary. 
 Do you remember my lines in the < Giaour/ 
 ending with 
 
 1 No : gayer insects fluttering by 
 Ne'er droop the wing o'er those that die ;
 
 WANT OF CHARITY 273 
 
 And lovelier things have mercy shown 
 To every failing but their own ; 
 And every woe a tear can claim 
 Except an erring sister's shame.' 
 
 " These lines were suggested by the conduct I 
 witnessed in London from women to their erring 
 acquaintances a conduct that led me to draw 
 the conclusion, that their hearts are formed of 
 less penetrable stuff than those of men." 
 
 18
 
 [274] 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Retrograde Greece The less of two evils The system of 
 Serrentism The advantages of morals and religion 
 Education's effects The consolation of avarice Byron's 
 expedition to Greece Sir Walter Scott and his sincerity 
 Tett-d-tetc suppers The organ of locomotiveness Securing 
 a tete-a-tete Food for a week An equivocal compliment- 
 Byron's love of mischief His plagiarism A triumphant 
 refutation. 
 
 BYRON has not lived sufficiently long in England, 
 
 and has left it at too young an age, to be able 
 
 to form an impartial and just estimate of his 
 
 compatriots. He was a busy actor, more than a 
 
 spectator, in the circles which have given him an 
 
 unfavourable impression ; and his own passions 
 
 were, at that period, too much excited to permit 
 
 his reason to be unbiased in the opinions he 
 
 formed. In his hatred of what he calls cant and 
 
 hypocrisy, he is apt to denounce as such all that 
 
 has the air of severity ; and which, though often 
 
 painful in individual cases, is, on the whole, 
 
 salutary for the general good of society. 
 
 This error of Byron's proceeds from a want of 
 actual personal observation, for which opportunity
 
 BYRON'S BIAS AGAINST SOCIETY 275 
 
 has not been afforded him, as the brief period of 
 his residence in England, after he had arrived at 
 an age to judge, and the active part he took in 
 the scenes around him, allowed him not to acquire 
 that perfect knowledge of society, manners, and 
 customs, which is necessary to correct the pre- 
 judices that a superficial acquaintance with it is 
 so apt to engender, even in the most acute 
 observer, but to which a powerful imagination, 
 prompt to jump at conclusions, without pausing 
 to trace cause and effect, is still more likely to 
 fall into. Byron sees not that much of what he 
 calls the usages of cant and hypocrisy are the 
 fences that protect propriety, and that they can- 
 not be invaded without exposing what it is the 
 interest of all to preserve. Had he been a calm 
 looker on, instead of an impassioned actor in 
 the drama of English fashionable life, he would 
 probably have taken a less harsh view of all 
 that has so much excited his ire, and felt the 
 necessity of many of the restraints which fettered 
 him. 
 
 A two years' residence in Greece, with all the 
 freedom and personal independence that a desul- 
 tory rambling life admits of and gives a taste for, 
 in a country where civilization has .so far retro- 
 graded that its wholesome laws, as well as its 
 refinement, have disappeared, leaving license to 
 usurp the place of liberty, was little calculated
 
 27 6 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 to prepare a young man of three-and-twenty for 
 the conventional habits and restraints of that 
 artificial state of society which extreme civiliza- 
 tion and refinement beget. No wonder then 
 that it soon became irksome to him, and that, 
 like the unbroken courser of Arabia, when taken 
 from the deserts where he had sported in freedom, 
 he spurned the puny meshes which ensnared him,, 
 and pined beneath the trammels that impeded 
 his liberty. 
 
 Byron returned to England in his twenty-third 
 year, and left it before he had completed his 
 twenty-eighth, soured by disappointments and 
 rendered reckless by a sense of injuries. " He 
 who fears not is to be feared," says the proverb ; 
 and Byron, wincing under all the obloquy which 
 malice and envy could inflict, felt that its utmost 
 malignity could go no farther, and became fixed 
 in a fearless braving of public opinion, which a 
 false spirit of vengeance led him to indulge in,, 
 turning the genius, that could have achieved the 
 noblest ends, into the means of accomplishing 
 those which were unworthy of it. His attacks 
 on the world are like the war of the Titana 
 against the gods, the weapons he aims fall back 
 on himself. He feels that he has allowed senti- 
 ments of pique to influence and deteriorate his 
 works; and that the sublime passages in them, 
 which now appear like gleams of sunshine flitting
 
 THE POET AND THE MAN 277 
 
 across the clouds that sometimes obscure the 
 bright luminary, might have been one unbroken 
 blaze of light, had not worldly resentment and 
 feelings dimmed their lustre. 
 
 This consciousness of misapplied genius has 
 made itself felt in Byron, and will yet lead him 
 to redeem the injustice he has done it; and when 
 he has won the guerdon of the world's applause, 
 and satisfied that craving for celebrity which con- 
 sumes him, reconciled to that world, and at peace 
 with himself, he may yet win as much esteem for 
 the man as he has hitherto elicited admiration for 
 the poet. To satisfy Byron, the admiration must 
 be unqualified ; and, as I have told him, this 
 depends on himself: he has only to choose a 
 subject for his muse, in which not only received 
 opinions are not wounded, but morality is incul- 
 cated ; and his glowing genius, no longer tarnished 
 by the stains that have previously blemished it, 
 will shine forth with a splendour, and insure that 
 universal applause, which will content even his 
 ambitious and aspiring nature. He wants some- 
 one to tell him what he might do, what he ought 
 to do, and what so doing he would become. I 
 have told him : but I have not sufficient weight 
 or influence with him to make my representations 
 effective ; and the task would be delicate and 
 difficult for a male friend to undertake, as Byron 
 is pertinacious in refusing to admit that his works
 
 27 8 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 have failed in morality, though in his heart I am 
 sure he feels it. 
 
 Talking of someone who was said to have 
 fallen in love, " I suspect," said Byron, " that he 
 must be indebted to your country for this phrase, 
 * falling in love ;' it is expressive and droll : they 
 also say falling ill ; and, as both are involuntary, 
 and, in general, equally calamitous, the expres- 
 sions please me. Of the two evils, the falling ill 
 seems to me to be the least ; at all events I would 
 prefer it ; for as, according to philosophers, plea- 
 sure consists in the absence of pain, the sensations 
 of returning health (if one does recover) must be 
 agreeable ; but the recovery from love is another 
 affair, and resembles the awaking from an agree- 
 able dream. Hearts are often only lent, when 
 they are supposed to be given away," continued 
 Byron ; " and are the loans for which people 
 exact the most usurious interest. When the 
 debt is called in, the borrower, like all other 
 debtors, feels little obligation to the lender, and, 
 having refunded the principal, regrets the interest 
 he has paid. You see," said Byron, " that, 
 a FAnglaise, I have taken a mercantile view of 
 the tender passion ; but I must add that, in 
 closing the accounts, they are seldom fairly 
 balanced, l e cio sa *1 suo dottore.' There is this 
 difference between the Italians and others," said 
 Byron, " that the end of love is not with them
 
 LOVE IN ITALY AND ENGLAND 279 
 
 the beginning of hatred, which certainly is, in 
 general, the case with the English, and, I believe, 
 the French : this may be accounted for from their 
 having less vanity ; which is also the reason why 
 they have less ill-nature in their compositions ; 
 for vanity, being always on the qui vive, up in 
 arms, ready to resent the least offence offered to 
 it, precludes good temper." 
 
 I asked Byron if his partiality for the Italians 
 did not induce him to overlook other and obvious 
 reasons for their not beginning to hate when 
 they ceased to love : first, the attachments were 
 of such long duration that age arrived to quell 
 angry feelings, and the gradations were so slow, 
 from the first sigh of love to the yawn of expiring 
 affection, as to be almost imperceptible to the 
 parties ; and the system of domesticating in Italy 
 established a habit that rendered them necessary 
 to each other. Then the slavery of servenfism, 
 the jealousies, carried to an extent that is un- 
 known in England, and which exists longer than 
 the passion that is supposed to excite, if not 
 excuse, them, may tend to reconcile lovers to 
 the exchange of friendship for love ; and, re- 
 joicing in their recovered liberty, they are more 
 disposed to indulge feelings of complacency than 
 hatred. 
 
 Byron said, " Whatever may be the cause, 
 they have reason to rejoice in the effect; and
 
 2 8o CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 one is never afraid in Italy of inviting people 
 together who have been known to have once 
 had warmer feelings than friendship towards 
 each other, as is the case in England, where, if 
 persons under such circumstances were to meet, 
 angry glances and a careful avoidance of civility 
 would mark their kind sentiments towards each 
 other." 
 
 I asked Byron if what he attributed to the 
 effects of wounded vanity might not proceed 
 from other and better feelings, at least on the 
 part of women. Might not shame and remorse 
 be the cause ? The presence of the man who 
 had caused their dereliction from duty and virtue 
 calling up both, could not be otherwise than 
 painful and humiliating to women who were 
 not totally destitute of delicacy and feeling ; and 
 that this most probably was the cause of the 
 coldness he observed between persons of opposite 
 sexes in society. 
 
 " You are always thinking of and reasoning 
 on the English" answered Byron : " mind, I 
 refer to Italians, and with them there can be 
 neither shame nor remorse, because, in yielding 
 to love, they do not believe they are violating 
 either their duty or religion ; consequently a man 
 has none of the reproaches to dread that await 
 him in England when a lady's conscience is 
 whidj, by the by, I have observed
 
 BYRON'S LOVE OF TEA ZING 281 
 
 it seldom is until affection is laid asleep, which," 
 continued Byron, " is very convenient to herself, 
 but very much the reverse to the unhappy man." 
 
 I am sure that much of what Byron said in 
 this conversation was urged to vex me. Knowing 
 my partiality to England and all that is English, 
 he has a childish delight in exciting me into an 
 argument ; and as I as yet know nothing of Italy, 
 except through books, he takes advantage of his 
 long residence in, and knowledge of the country, 
 to vaunt the superiority of its customs and usages, 
 which 1 never can believe he prefers to his own. 
 A wish of vexing or astonishing the English is, 
 I am persuaded, the motive that induces him to 
 attack Shakespeare ; and he is highly gratified 
 when he succeeds in doing either, and enjoys it 
 like a child. He says that the reason why he 
 judges the English women so severely is, that, 
 being brought up with certain principles, they 
 are doubly to blame in not making their conduct 
 accord with them ; and that, while punishing 
 with severity the transgressions of persons of 
 their own sex in humble positions, they look 
 over the more glaring misconduct and vices 
 of the rich and great that not the crime, but 
 its detection, is punished in England, and, to 
 avoid this, hypocrisy is added to want of virtue. 
 
 " You have heard, of course," said Byron, 
 " that I was considered mad in England ; my
 
 282 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 most intimate friends in general, and Lady Byron 
 in particular, were of this opinion ; but it did 
 not operate in my favour in their minds, as they 
 were not, like the natives of Eastern nations, 
 disposed to pay honour to my supposed insanity 
 or folly. They considered me a mejnoun* but 
 would not treat me as one. And yet, had such 
 been the case, what ought to excite such pity 
 and forbearance as a mortal malady that reduces 
 us to more than childishness a prostration of 
 intellect that makes us dependent on even 
 menial hands? Reason," continued Byron, "is 
 so unreasonable, that few can say that they are 
 in possession of it. I have often doubted my own 
 sanity ; and, what is more, wished for insanity 
 anything to quell memory, the never-dying 
 worm that feeds on the heart, and only calls up 
 the past to make the present more insupportable. 
 Memory has for me 
 
 " ' The vulture's ravenous tooth, 
 . The raven's funereal song.' 
 
 There is one thing," continued Byron, " that 
 increases my discontent, and adds to the rage 
 that I often feel against self. It is the conviction 
 that the events in life that have most pained me 
 that have turned the milk of my nature into 
 
 * An Arabic word, sometimes used by Turkish-speaking people, 
 which means a lunatic.
 
 BYRON ON HIMSELF 283 
 
 gall have not depended on the persons who 
 tortured me, as I admit the causes were in- 
 adequate to the effects : it was my own nature, 
 prompt to receive painful impressions, and to 
 retain them with a painful tenacity, that supplied 
 the arms against my peace. Nay, more, I believe 
 that the wounds inflicted were not, for the most 
 part, premeditated ; or, if so, that the extent and 
 profundity of them were not anticipated by the 
 persons who aimed them. There are some 
 natures that have a predisposition to grief, as 
 others have to disease ; and such was my case. 
 The causes that have made me wretched would 
 probably not have discomposed, or, at least, more 
 than discomposed, another. 
 
 " We are all differently organized ; and that I 
 feel acutely is no more my fault (though it is my 
 misfortune) than that another feels not, is his. 
 We did not make ourselves; and if the elements , 
 of unhappiness abound more in the nature of 
 one man than another, he is but the more entitled 
 to our pity and forbearance. Mine is a nature," 
 continued Byron, " that might have been softened 
 and ameliorated by prosperity, but that has been 
 hardened and soured by adversity." Prosperity 
 and adversity are the fires by which moral 
 chemists try and judge human nature ; and how 
 few can pass the ordeal ! Prosperity corrupts, 
 and adversity renders ordinary nature callous ; but
 
 284 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 when any portion of excellence exists, neither 
 can injure. The first will expand the heart, and 
 show forth every virtue, as the genial rays of 
 the sun bring forth the fruit and flowers of the 
 earth; and the second will teach sympathy for 
 others, which is best learned in the school of 
 affliction. 
 
 " I am persuaded (said Byron) that education 
 has more effect in quelling the passions than 
 people are aware of. I do not think this is 
 achieved by the powers of reasoning and reflec- 
 tion that education is supposed to bestow ; for I 
 know by experience how little either can influence 
 the person who is under the tyrant rule of 
 passion. My opinion is, that education, by 
 expanding the mind, and giving sources of tasteful 
 occupation, so fills up the time, that leisure is 
 not left for the passions to gain that empire that 
 they are sure to acquire over the idle and ignorant. 
 Look at the lower orders, and see what fearful 
 proofs they continually furnish of the unlimited 
 power passion has over them. I have seen 
 instances, and particularly in Italy, among the 
 lower class, and of your sex, where the women 
 seemed for the moment transformed into Medeas ; 
 and so ungoverned and ungovernable was their 
 rage, that each appeared grand and tragic for the 
 time, and furnished me, who am rather an amateur 
 in studying nature under all her aspects, with
 
 JEALOUSY OF ITALIAN WOMEN 285 
 
 food for reflection. Then the upper classes, too, 
 in Italy, where the march of intellect has not 
 advanced by rail-roads and steam-boats, as in 
 polished, happy England ; and where the women 
 remain children in mind long after maturity had 
 stamped their persons ! see one of their stately 
 dames under the influence of the green-eyed 
 monster, and one can believe that the Furies were 
 not fabulous. 
 
 " This is amusing at first, but becomes, like 
 most amusements, rather a bore at the end ; and 
 a poor cavafiere servenfe must have more courage 
 than falls to the share of most, who would not 
 shut his eyes against the beauty of all damas but 
 his own, rather than encounter an explosion of 
 jealousy. But the devil of it is, there is hardly a 
 possibility of avoiding it, as the Italian women 
 are so addicted to jealousy, that the poor seruenti 
 are often accused of the worst intentions for 
 merely performing the simple courtesies of life ; 
 so that the system of servenfism imposes a thousand 
 times more restraint and slavery than marriage 
 ever imposed, even in the most moral countries : 
 indeed, where the morals are the most respected 
 and cultivated, (continued Byron,) there will be 
 the least jealousy or suspicion, as morals are to 
 the enlightened what religion is to the ignorant 
 their safeguard from committing wrong, or 
 suspecting it. So you see, bad as I am supposed
 
 286 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 to be, I have, by this admission, proved the 
 advantages of morals and religion. 
 
 " But to return to my opinion of the effect 
 education has in extending the focus of ideas, 
 and, consequently, in curbing the intensity of the 
 passions. I have remarked that well-educated 
 women rarely, if ever, gave way to any ebulli- 
 tions of them ; and this is a grand step gained in 
 conquering their empire, as habit in this, as well 
 as in all else, has great power. I hope my 
 daughter will be well educated; but of this I 
 have little dread, as her mother is highly 
 cultivated, and certainly has a degree of self- 
 control that I never saw equalled. 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 un- 
 happiness 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 what few, I fancy, could a 
 perfect and refined gentlewoman, even to her 
 femme-de-chambre.
 
 LADY BYRON'S SELF-CONTROL 287 
 
 " This extraordinary degree of self-command 
 in Lady Byron produced an opposite effect on 
 me. When I have broken out, on slight provoca- 
 tions, into one of my ungovernable fits of rage, 
 her calmness piqued and seemed to reproach me ; 
 it gave her an air of superiority that vexed, and 
 increased my mauvaise humeur. 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 courage to adopt." 
 
 Talking of his proposed expedition to Greece, 
 Byron said that, as the moment approached for 
 undertaking it, he almost wished he had never 
 thought of it. " This (said Byron) is one of the 
 many scrapes into which my poetical tempera- 
 ment has drawn me. You smile ; but it is never- 
 theless true. No man, or woman either, with 
 such a temperament, can be quiet. Passion is 
 the element in which we live ; and without it 
 we but vegetate. 
 
 " All the passions have governed me in turn, 
 and I have found them the veriest tyrants ; like 
 all slaves, I have reviled my masters, but sub- 
 mitted to the yoke they imposed. I had hoped 
 (continued Byron) that avarice, that old gentle- 
 manly vice, would, like Aaron's serpent, have 
 swallowed up all the rest in me ; and that now I 
 am descending into the vale of years, I might
 
 2 88 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 have found pleasure in golden realities, as in 
 youth I found it in golden dreams, (and let me 
 tell you, that, of all the passions, this same decried 
 avarice is the most consolatory, and, in nine cases 
 out of ten, lasts the longest, and is the latest,) 
 when up springs a new passion, call it love of 
 liberty, military ardour, or what yo.u will, to 
 disgust me with my strong box, and, the com- 
 fortable contemplation of my moneys, nay, to 
 create wings for my golden darlings, that may 
 waft them away from me for ever; and I may 
 awaken to find that this, my present ruling 
 passion, as I have always found my last, was the 
 most worthless of all, with the soothing reflection 
 that it has left me minus some thousands. But I 
 am fairly in for it, and it is useless to repine ; 
 but, I repeat, this scrape, which may be my last, 
 has been caused by my poetical temperament, 
 the devil take it, say I." 
 
 Byron was irresistibly comic when commenting 
 on his own errors or weaknesses. His face, half 
 laughing and half serious, archness always pre- 
 dominating in its expression, added peculiar force 
 to his words. 
 
 " Is it not pleasant (continued Byron) that my 
 eyes should never open to the folly of any of the 
 undertakings passion prompts me to engage in, 
 until I am so far embarked that retreat (at least 
 with honour) is impossible, and my mat a propos
 
 THE EXPEDITION TO GREECE 289 
 
 sagesse arrives, to scare away the enthusiasm that 
 led to the undertaking, and which is so requisite 
 to carry it on ? It is all an up-hill affair with 
 me afterwards : I cannot, for my life, echauffer 
 my imagination again ; and my position excites 
 such ludicrous images and thoughts in my own 
 mind, that the whole subject, which, seen through 
 the veil of passion, looked fit for a sublime epic, 
 and I one of its heroes, examined now through 
 reason's glass, appears fit only for a travesty, and 
 my poor self a Major Sturgeon, marching and 
 counter-marching, not from Acton to Ealing, or 
 from Ealing to Acton, but from Corinth to 
 Athens, and from Athens to Corinth. Yet, 
 hang it, (continued he,) these very names ought 
 to chase away every idea of the ludicrous ; but 
 the laughing devils will return, and make a 
 mockery of everything, as with me there is, as 
 Napoleon said, but one step between the sublime 
 and the ridiculous. 
 
 "Well, if I do (and this if is a grand peut-etre 
 in my future history) outlive the campaign, I 
 shall write two poems on the subject one an 
 epic, and the other a burlesque, in which none 
 shall be spared, and myself least of all : indeed, 
 you must allow (continued Byron) that if I take 
 liberties with my friends, I take still greater ones 
 with myself; therefore they ought to bear with 
 me, if only out of consideration for my impar- 
 
 '9
 
 290 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 tiality. I am also determined to write a poem 
 in praise of avarice, (said Byron,) as I think it 
 a most ill-used and unjustly decried passion : 
 mind, I do not call it a vice, and I hope to 
 make it clear that a passion which enables us to 
 conquer the appetites, or, at least, the indulgence 
 of them ; that triumphs over pride, vanity, and 
 ostentation ; that leads us to the practice of daily 
 self-denial, temperance, sobriety, and a thousand 
 other praiseworthy practices, ought not to be 
 censured, more especially as all the sacrifices it 
 commands are endured without any weak feeling 
 of reference to others, though to others all the 
 reward of such sacrifices belongs." 
 
 Byron laughed very much at the thought of 
 this poem, and the censures it would excite in 
 England among the matter-of-fact, credulous 
 class of readers and writers. Poor Byron ! how 
 much more pains did he bestow to take off the 
 gloss from his own qualities, than others do to 
 give theirs a false lustre ! In his hatred and 
 contempt of hypocrisy and cant, he outraged his 
 own nature, and rendered more injustice to him- 
 self than even his enemies ever received at his 
 hands. His confessions of errors were to be 
 received with caution ; for he exaggerated not 
 only his misdeeds but his opinions ; and, fond of 
 tracing springs of thought to their sources, he 
 involved himself in doubts, to escape from which
 
 RECIPROCAL COMPLIMENTS 291 
 
 he boldly attributed to himself motives and 
 feelings that had passed, but like shadows, 
 through his mind, and left unrecorded, mementos 
 that might have redeemed even more than the 
 faults of which he accused himself. When the 
 freedom with which Byron remarked on the 
 errors of his friends draws down condemnation 
 from his readers, let them reflect on the still 
 greater severity with which he treated his own, 
 and let this mistaken and exaggerated candour 
 plead his excuse. 
 
 " It is odd (said Byron) that I never could get 
 on well in conversation with literary men: they 
 always seemed to think themselves obliged to pay 
 some neat and appropriate compliment to my last 
 work, which I, as in duty bound, was compelled 
 to respond to, and bepraise theirs. They never 
 appeared quite satisfied with my faint praise, and 
 I was far from being satisfied at having been 
 forced to administer it ; so mutual constraint 
 ensued, each wondering what was to come next, 
 and wishing each other (at least I can answer for 
 myself) at the devil. Now Scott, though a giant 
 in literature, is unlike literary men ; he neither 
 expects compliments nor pays them in conversa- 
 tion. There is a sincerity and simplicity in his 
 character and manner that stamp any commenda- 
 tion of his as truth, and any praise one might 
 offer him must fall short of his deserts ; so that
 
 292 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 there is no gene in his society. There is nothing 
 in him that gives the impression I have so often 
 had of others, who seemed to say, ' I praise you 
 that you may do the same by me.' 
 
 " Moore is a delightful companion, (continued 
 Byron;) gay without being boisterous, witty 
 without effort, comic without coarseness, and 
 sentimental without being lachrymose. He 
 reminds one (continued Byron) of the fairy, 
 who, whenever she spoke, let diamonds fall from 
 her lips. My tete-a-tete suppers with Moore 
 are among the most agreeable impressions I 
 retain of the hours passed in London : they are 
 the redeeming lights in the gloomy picture ; but 
 they were, 
 
 " ' Like angel-visits, few and far between ;' 
 
 for the great defect in my friend Tom is a sort 
 of fidgety unsettledness, that prevents his giving 
 himself up, con amore, to any one friend, because 
 he is apt to think he might be more happy with 
 another : he has the organ of locomotiveness 
 largely developed, as a phrenologist would say, 
 and would like to be at three places instead of 
 one. 
 
 " I always . felt, with Moore, the desire 
 Johnson expressed, to be shut up in a post- 
 chaise, tete-a-tete with a pleasant companion, to 
 be quite sure of him. He must be delightful in
 
 MOORE'S RESTLESSNESS 293 
 
 a country-house, at a safe distance from any other 
 inviting one, when one could have him really to 
 one's self, and enjoy his conversation and his 
 singing, without the perpetual fear that he is 
 expected at Lady This or Lady That's, or the 
 being reminded that he promised to look in at 
 Lansdowne House or Grosvenor Square. The 
 wonder is, not that he is recherche^ but that he 
 wastes himself on those who can so little ap- 
 preciate him, though they value the eclat his 
 reputation gives to their stupid soirees. I have 
 known a dull man live on a bon mot of Moore's 
 for a week ; and I once offered a wager of a 
 considerable sum that the reciter was guiltless of 
 understanding its point, but could get no one to 
 accept my bet. 
 
 " Are you acquainted with the family of - ? 
 (asked Byron). The commendation formerly 
 bestowed on the Sydney family might be reversed 
 for them, as all the sons are virtuous, and all the 
 daughters brave. I once (continued he) said this, 
 with a grave face, to a .near relation of theirs, who 
 received it as a compliment, and told me I was 
 very good. I was in old times fond of mystifying, 
 and paying equivocal compliments ; but * was is 
 not is ' with me, as God knows, in any sense, for 
 I am now cured of mystifying, as well as of many 
 others of my mischievous pranks : whether I am 
 a better man for my self-correction remains to be
 
 294 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 proved ; I am quite sure that I am not a more 
 agreeable one. I have always had a strong love 
 of mischief in my nature, (said Byron,) and this 
 still continues, though I do not very often give 
 way to its dictates. It is this lurking devil that 
 prompts me to abuse people against whom I have 
 not the least malicious feeling, and to praise some 
 whose merits (if they have any) I am little 
 acquainted with ; but I do it in the mischievous 
 spirit of the moment to vex the person or persons 
 with whom I am conversing. Is not this very 
 childish ? (continued Byron ;) and, above all, for 
 a poet, which people tell me I am ? All I know 
 is, that, if I am, poets can be greater fools than 
 other people. 
 
 " We of the craft poets, I mean resemble 
 paper-kites ; we soar high into the air, but are 
 held to earth by a cord, and our flight is restrained 
 by a child that child is self. We are but grown 
 children, having all their weakness, and only 
 wanting their innocence ; our thoughts soar, but 
 the frailty of our natures brings them back to 
 earth. What should we be without thoughts ? 
 (continued Byron ;) they are the bridges by which 
 we pass over time and space. And yet, perhaps, 
 like troops flying before the enemy, we are often 
 tempted to destroy the bridges we have passed, 
 to save ourselves from pursuit. How often have 
 I tried to shun thought ! But come, I must not
 
 CHARGES OF PLAGIARY 295 
 
 get gloomy ; my thoughts are almost always of 
 the sombre hue, so that I ought not to be 
 blamed (said he, laughing) if I steal those of 
 others, as I am accused of doing ; I cannot have 
 any more disagreeable ones than my own, at least 
 as far as they concern myself. 
 
 " In all the charges of plagiary brought against 
 me in England, (said Byron,) did you hear me 
 accused of stealing from Madame de Stael the 
 opening lines of my ' Bride of Abydos ' ? She is 
 supposed to have borrowed her lines from 
 Schlegel, or to have stolen them from Goethe's 
 ' Wilhelm Meister ;' so you see I am a third or 
 fourth hand stealer of stolen goods. Do you 
 know De StaeTs lines ? (continued Byron ;) for if 
 I am a thief, she must be the plundered, as I 
 don't read German, and do French ; yet I could 
 almost swear that I never saw her verses when I 
 wrote mine, nor do I even now remember them. 
 I think the first began with ' Cette terre/ etc., 
 etc., but the rest I forget ; as you have a good 
 memory, perhaps you would repeat them." 
 
 I did so, and they are as follows : 
 
 " Cette terre, ou les myrtes fleurissent, 
 Oil les rayons des cieux tombent avec amour, 
 Oil les sons enchanteurs dans les airs retentissent, 
 Oil la plus douce nuit succede au plus beau jour." 
 
 " Well (said Byron) I do not see any point of 
 resemblance, except in the use of the two un-
 
 296 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 fortunate words 'land' and 'myrtle/ and for using 
 these new and original words I am a plagiarist ! 
 To avoid such charges, I must invent a dictionary 
 for myself. Does not this charge prove the 
 liberal spirit of the hypercritics in England ? If 
 they knew how little I value their observations, 
 or the opinions of those that they can influence, 
 they would be perhaps more spiteful, and certainly 
 more careful in producing better proofs of their 
 charges ; the one of De Stael I consider a 
 triumphant refutation for me."
 
 [297] 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 The liberty of thought and speech The king of prosers Bores 
 The Irishwoman's fortune Un chantre du enfer A fanciful 
 simile M. de Lamartine His ode to Byron His "Medita- 
 tions " The one disadvantage of solitude The rock which 
 wrecked Napoleon Byron compares himself to a tiger 
 Diderot How to write of women Byron's mother and 
 sister : their influence on him Thomas Campbell " The 
 Pleasures of Hope " To know " by heart " ' The Pleasures 
 of Memory " Loving-cups for the poets An excuse for 
 Shakespeare Pope Byron's elocution. 
 
 " I OFTEN think (said Byron) that were I to 
 return to England, I should be considered, in 
 certain circles, as having a tres mauva/s ton, for I 
 have been so long out of it that I have learned to 
 say what I think, instead of saying only what, by 
 the rules of convenience, people are permitted to 
 think. For though England tolerates the liberty 
 of the press, it is far from tolerating liberty of 
 thought or of speech ; and since the progress of 
 modern refinement, when delicacy of words is as 
 remarkable as indelicacy of actions, a plain-speak- 
 ing man is sure to get into a scrape. Nothing 
 amuses me more than to see refinement versus
 
 298 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 morals, and to know that people are shocked not 
 at crimes, but their detection. The Spartan boy, 
 who suffered the animal he had secured by theft 
 to prey on his vitals, evinced not more constancy 
 in concealing his sufferings than do the English in 
 suppressing all external symptoms of what they 
 must feel, and on many occasions, when Nature 
 makes herself felt through the expression of her 
 feelings, would be considered almost as a crime. 
 But I believe crime is a word banished from the 
 vocabulary of haut-ton, as the vices of the rich 
 and great are called errors, and those of the poor 
 and lowly only, crimes. 
 
 " Do you know - ? (asked Byron). He is 
 the king of prosers. I called him * he of the 
 thousand tales,' in humble imitation of Boccaccio, 
 whom I styled < he of the hundred tales of love :' 
 mats, helas ! - -'s are not tales of love, or that 
 beget love ; they are born of dulness, and inciting 
 sleep, they produce the same effect on the senses 
 that the monotonous sound of a waterfall never 
 fails to have on mine. With - - one is afraid 
 to speak, because whatever is said is sure to bring 
 forth a reminiscence, that as surely leads to 
 interminable recollections, 
 
 Dull as the dreams of him who swills vile beer.' 
 
 Thus (continued Byron), - - is so honourable 
 and well-intentioned a man that one can find
 
 BORES SHOULD BE PUNISHED 299 
 
 nothing bad to say of him, except that he is a 
 bore ; and as there is no law against that class of 
 offenders, one must bear with him. 
 
 " It is to be hoped, that, with all the modern 
 improvements in refinement, a mode will be dis- 
 covered of getting rid of bores, for it is too bad 
 that a poor wretch can be punished for stealing 
 your pocket-handkerchief or gloves, and that no 
 punishment can be inflicted on those who steal 
 your time, and with it your temper and patience, 
 as well as the bright thoughts that might have 
 entered into the mind, (like the Irishman who 
 lost a fortune before he had got it,) but were 
 frighted away by the bore. Nature certainly 
 
 (said Byron) has not dealt charitably by , for, 
 
 independent of his being the king of prosers, he 
 is the ugliest person possible, and when he talks, 
 breathes not of Araby the blest : his heart is 
 good, but the stomach is none of the best. His 
 united merits led me to attempt an epigram on 
 them, which, I believe, is as follows : 
 
 " ' When conversing with , who can disclose 
 
 Which suffers the most eyes, ears, or the nose ?' 
 
 " I repeated this epigram (continued Byron) to 
 him as having been made on a mutual friend of 
 ours, and he enjoyed it, as we all do some hit on 
 a friend. 
 
 " I have known people who were incapable of
 
 300 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 saying the least unkind word against friends, and 
 yet who listened with evident (though attempted 
 to be suppressed) pleasure to the malicious jokes 
 or witty sarcasms of others against them; a 
 proof that, even in the best people, some taints 
 of the original evil of our natures remain. You 
 think I am wrong (continued Byron) in my 
 estimate of human nature ; you think I analyze 
 my own evil qualities and those of others too 
 closely, and judge them too severely. I have 
 need of self-examination to reconcile me to all 
 the incongruities I discover, and to make me 
 more lenient to faults that my tongue censures, 
 but that my heart pardons, from the conscious- 
 ness of its own weakness." 
 
 We should all do well to reflect on the frailty 
 of man, if it led us more readily to forgive his 
 faults, and cherish his virtues ; the former, alas ! 
 are inextirpable, but the latter are the victories 
 gained over that most difficult to be conquered of 
 all assailants self; to which victory, if we do 
 not decree a triumph, we ought to grant an 
 ovation ; but, unhappily, the contemplation of 
 human frailty is too apt to harden the heart, and 
 oftener creates disgust than humility. "When 
 we dwell on vices with mockery and bitterness, 
 instead of pity, we may doubt the efficacy of our 
 contemplation ; and this," said I to Byron, 
 " seems to me to be your case ; for when I hear
 
 BYRON A FALLEN ANGEL 301 
 
 your taunting reflections on the discoveries you 
 make in poor, erring human nature ; when you 
 have explored and exposed every secret recess of 
 the heart, you appear to me like a fallen angel, 
 sneering at the sins of men, instead of a fellow 
 man pitying them. This it is that makes me 
 think you analyze too deeply ; and I would at 
 present lead you to reflect only on the good that 
 still remains in the world, for be assured there 
 is much good, as an antidote to the evil that you 
 know of." 
 
 Byron laughed, and said, " You certainly do 
 not spare me ; but you manage to wrap up your 
 censures in an envelope almost complimentary, 
 and that reconciles me to their bitterness, as 
 children are induced to take physic by its being 
 disguised in some sweet substance. The fallen 
 angel is so much more agreeable than the demon, 
 as others have called me, that I am rather flattered 
 than affronted ; I ought, in return, to say some- 
 thing fres aimable to you, in which angelic at 
 least might be introduced, but I will not, as I 
 never can compliment those that I esteem. But 
 to return to self; you know that I have been 
 called not only a demon, but a French poet 
 has addressed me as chantre d'enfer, which, I 
 suppose, he thinks very flattering. I dare say 
 his poem will be done into English by some 
 Attic resident, and, instead of a singer of hell,
 
 3 02 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 I shall be styled a hellish singer, and so go down 
 to posterity." 
 
 He laughed at his own pun, and said he felt 
 half disposed to write a quizzing answer to the 
 French poet, in which he should mystify him. 
 
 " It is no wonder (said Byron) that I am con- 
 sidered a demon, when people have taken it into 
 their heads that I am the hero of all my own 
 tales in verse. They fancy one can only describe 
 what has actually occurred to one's self, and forget 
 the power that persons of any imagination possess 
 of identifying themselves, for the time being, with 
 the creations of their fancy. This is a peculiar 
 distinction conferred on me, for I have heard of 
 no other poet who has been identified with his 
 works. 
 
 " I saw the other day (said Byron) in one of 
 the papers a fanciful simile about Moore's 
 writings and mine. It stated that Moore's 
 poems appeared as if they ought to be written 
 with crow-quills, on rose-coloured paper, stamped 
 with Cupids and flowers ; and mine on asbestos, 
 written by quills from the wing of an eagle : 
 you laugh, but I think this a very sublime com- 
 parison, at least, so far as I am concerned, it 
 quite consoles me for ' chantre d'enfer.' By the 
 bye, the French poet is neither a philosopher nor 
 a logician : as he dubs me by this title merely 
 because I doubt that there is an enfer^ ergo, I
 
 LAMARTINE ON BYRON 303 
 
 cannot be styled the chantre of a place of which I 
 doubt the existence. I dislike French verse so 
 much (said Byron) that I have not read more 
 than a few lines of the one in which I am 
 dragged into public view. He calls me, (said 
 Byron,) ' Esprit mysterieux, mortel, ange ou 
 demon ;' which I call very uncivil, for a well- 
 bred Frenchman, and moreover one of the craft : 
 I wish he would let me and my works alone, for 
 I am sure I do not trouble him or his, and should 
 not know that he existed, except from his notice 
 of me, which some good-natured friend has sent 
 me. There are some things in the world, of 
 which, like gnats, we are only reminded of the 
 existence by their stinging us ; this was his 
 position with me." 
 
 Had Byron read the whole of the poem 
 addressed to him by M. de Lamartine, he would 
 have been more flattered than offended by it, as 
 it is not only full of beauty, but the admiration 
 for the genius of the English poet, which per- 
 vades every sentiment of the ode, is so profound, 
 that the epithet which offended the morbid 
 sensitiveness of Byron would have been readily 
 pardoned. M. de Lamartine is perhaps the only 
 French poet who could have so justly appre- 
 ciated, and gracefully eulogized, our wayward 
 child of genius ; and having written so success- 
 fully himself, his praise is more valuable. His
 
 304 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 " Meditations " possess a depth of feeling which, 
 tempered by a strong religious sentiment that 
 makes the Christian rise superior to the philo- 
 sopher, bears the impress of a true poetical 
 temperament, which could not fail to sympathize 
 with all the feelings, however he might differ 
 from the reasonings, of Byron. Were the works 
 of the French poet better known to the English 
 bard he could not, with even all his dislike to 
 French poetry, have refused his approbation to 
 the writings of M. de Lamartine. 
 
 Talking of solitude " It has but one dis- 
 advantage (said Byron), but that is a serious one, 
 it is apt to give one too high an opinion of 
 one's self. In the world we are sure to be often 
 reminded of every known or supposed defect we 
 may have ; hence we can rarely, unless possessed 
 of an inordinate share of vanity, form a very 
 exalted opinion of ourselves, and, in society, woe 
 be to him who lets it be known that he thinks 
 more highly of himself than of his neighbours, as 
 this is a crime that arms everyone against him. 
 This was the rock on which Napoleon foundered ; 
 he had so often wounded the amour-propre of 
 others, that they were glad to hurl him from the 
 eminence that made him appear a giant and those 
 around him pigmies. 
 
 '' If a man or woman has any striking supe- 
 riority, some great defect or weakness must be
 
 A FOOL'S PARADISE 305 
 
 discovered to counterbalance it, that their con- 
 temporaries may console themselves for their 
 envy, by saying, * Well, if I have not the genius 
 of Mr. This, or the beauty or talents of Mrs. 
 That, I have not the violent temper of the one, 
 or the overweening vanity of the other.' But, to 
 return to solitude, (said Byron,) it is the only 
 fool's paradise on earth : there we have no one to 
 remind us of our faults, or by whom we can be 
 humiliated by comparisons. Our evil passions 
 sleep, because they are not excited ; our produc- 
 tions appear sublime, because we have no kind 
 and judicious friend to hint at their defects, and 
 to point out faults of style and imagery where we 
 had thought ourselves most luminous: these are 
 the advantages of solitude, and those who have 
 once tasted them, can never return to the busy 
 world again with any zest for its feverish enjoy- 
 ments. In the world (said Byron) I am always 
 irritable and violent; the very noise of the streets 
 of a populous city affects my nerves : I seemed in 
 a London house 'cabined, cribbed, confined,' and 
 felt like a tiger in too small a cage: apropos Jof 
 tigers, did you ever observe that all people in a 
 violent rage, walk up and down the place they 
 are in, as wild beasts do in their dens ?* I have 
 
 * Byron was fond of comparing himself to a tiger. In a letter 
 to Mr. Murray he writes : " I am like the tiger (in poesy), if I miss 
 the first spring, I go growling back to my jungle." Byron's Works, 
 1832 edition, vol. v., p. 33. 
 
 20
 
 306 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 particularly remarked this, (continued he,) and it 
 proved to me, what I never doubted, that we 
 have much of the animal and the ferocious in our 
 natures, which, I am convinced, is increased by 
 an over-indulgence of our carnivorous propen- 
 sities. 
 
 " It has been said that, to enjoy solitude, a 
 man must be superlatively good or bad : I deny 
 this, because there are no superlatives in man, 
 all are comparative or relative ; but, had I no 
 other reason to deny it, my own experience would 
 furnish me with one. God knows I never flattered 
 myself with the idea of being superlatively good, 
 as no one better knows his faults than I do mine; 
 but, at the same time, I am as unwilling to believe 
 that I am superlatively bad, yet I enjoy solitude 
 more than I ever enjoyed society, even in my 
 most youthful days." 
 
 I told Byron, that I expected he would one day 
 give the world a collection of useful aphorisms, 
 drawn from personal experience. He laughed 
 and said " Perhaps I may ; those are best suited 
 to, advise others who have missed the road 
 themselves, and this has been my case. I have 
 found friends false, acquaintances malicious, 
 relations indifferent, and nearer and dearer con- 
 nexions perfidious. Perhaps much, if not all 
 this, has been caused by my own waywardness ; 
 but that has not prevented my feeling it keenly.
 
 LIFE ONLY A DREAM 307 
 
 It has made me look on friends as partakers of 
 prosperity, censurers in adversity, and absentees 
 in distress ; and has forced me to view acquain- 
 tances merely as persons who think themselves 
 justified in courting or cutting one, as best suits 
 them. But relations I regard only as people 
 privileged to tell disagreeable truths, and to 
 accept weighty obligations, as matters of course. 
 You have now (continued Byron) my unsophis- 
 ticated opinion of friends, acquaintances, and 
 relations ; of course there are always exceptions, 
 but they are rare, and exceptions do not make 
 the rule. All that I have said are but reiterated 
 truisms that all admit to be just, but that few, if 
 any, act upon ; they are like the death-bell that 
 we hear toll for others, without thinking that it 
 must soon toll for us ; we know that others have 
 been deceived, but we believe that we are either 
 too clever, or too lovable, to meet the same fate : 
 we see our friends drop daily around us, many 
 of them younger and healthier than ourselves, 
 yet we think that we shall live to be old, as if 
 we possessed some stronger hold on life than 
 those who have gone before us. 
 
 " Alas ! life is but a dream from which we 
 are only awakened by death. All else is illusion; 
 changing as we change, and each cheating us in 
 turn, until death withdraws the veil, and shows 
 us the dread reality. It is strange (said Byron)
 
 3 o8 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 that feeling, as most people do, life a burthen, 
 we should still cling to it with such pertinacity. 
 This is another proof of animal feeling ; for if 
 the divine spirit that is supposed to animate us 
 mastered the animal nature, should we not rejoice 
 at laying down the load that has so long oppressed 
 us, and beneath which we have groaned for years, 
 to seek a purer, brighter existence ? Who ever 
 reached the age of twenty-five (continued Byron) 
 without feeling the tadium vita which poisons 
 the little enjoyment that we are allowed to taste ? 
 We begin life with the hope of attaining happi- 
 ness ; soon discovering that to be unattainable, 
 we seek pleasure as a poor substitute ; but even 
 this eludes our grasp, and we end by desiring 
 repose, which death alone can give." 
 
 I told Byron that the greater part of our 
 chagrins arose from disappointed hopes ; that, in 
 our pride and weakness, we considered happiness 
 as our birthright, and received infliction as an 
 injustice ; whereas the latter was the, inevitable 
 lot of man, and the other but the ignis fatuus that 
 beguiles the dreary path of life, and sparkles but 
 to deceive. I added that while peace of mind 
 was left us, we could not be called miserable. 
 This greatest of all earthly consolations depends 
 on ourselves ; whereas for happiness we rely on 
 others : but, as the first is lasting, and the second 
 fleeting, we ought to cultivate that of which
 
 THEORETICAL PHILOSOPHY 309 
 
 nought but our own actions can deprive us, and 
 enjoy the other as we do a fine autumnal day, 
 that we prize the more, because we know it will 
 soon be followed by winter. 
 
 " Your philosophy is really admirable (said 
 Byron) if it were possible to follow it ; but I 
 suspect that you are among the number of those 
 who preach it the most, and practise it the least, 
 for you have too much feeling to have more than 
 a theoretical knowledge of it. For example, how 
 would you bear the ingratitude and estrangement 
 of friends of those in whom you had garnered 
 up your heart ? I suspect that, in such a case, 
 feeling would beat philosophy out of the field ; 
 for I have ever found that philosophy, like 
 experience, never comes until one has ceased to 
 require its services. 
 
 " I have (continued Byron) experienced ingrati- 
 tude and estrangement from friends ; and this, 
 more than all else, has destroyed my confidence 
 in human nature. It is thus from individual 
 cases that we are so apt to generalize. A few 
 persons on whom we have lavished our friendship, 
 without ever examining if they had the qualities 
 requisite to justify such a preference, are found 
 to be ungrateful and unworthy, and instead of 
 blaming our own want of perception in the 
 persons so unwisely chosen, we cry out against 
 poor human nature : one or two examples of
 
 3 io CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 ingratitude and selfishness prejudice us against 
 the world ; but six times the number of examples 
 of goodness and sincerity fail to reconcile us to 
 it, so much more susceptible are we of evil 
 impressions than of good. 
 
 " Have you not observed (said Byron) how 
 much more prone people are to remember injuries 
 than benefits? The most essential services are 
 soon forgotten ; but some trifling and often un- 
 intentional offence is rarely pardoned, and never 
 effaced from the memory. All this proves that 
 we have a strong and decided predisposition to 
 evil; the tendencies and consequences of which 
 we may conceal, but cannot eradicate. I think 
 ill of the world, (continued Byron,) but I do not, 
 as some cynics assert, believe it to be composed 
 of knaves and fools. No, I consider that it is, 
 for the most part, peopled by those who have 
 not talents sufficient to be the first, and yet have 
 one degree too much to be the second." 
 
 Byron's bad opinion of mankind is not, I am 
 convinced, genuine; and it certainly does not 
 operate on his actions, as his first impulses are 
 always good, and his heart is kind and charitable. 
 His good deeds are never the result of reflection, 
 as the heart acts before the head has had time 
 to reason. This cynical habit of decrying human 
 nature is one of the many little affectations to 
 which he often descends; and this impression
 
 ' ' UNSTA BLE A S WA TER " 311 
 
 has become so fixed in my mind, that I have 
 been vexed with myself for attempting to refute 
 opinions of his which, on reflection, I was con- 
 vinced were not his real sentiments, but uttered 
 either from a foolish wish of display, or from a 
 spirit of contradiction, which much influences 
 his conversation. 
 
 I have heard him assert opinions one day, and 
 maintain the most opposite, with equal warmth, 
 the day after : this arises not so much from 
 insincerity, as from being wholly governed by 
 the feeling of the. moment : he has no fixed 
 principle of conduct or of thought, and the want 
 of it leads him into errors and inconsistencies, 
 from which he is only rescued by a natural 
 goodness of heart, that redeems, in some degree, 
 what it cannot prevent. Violence of temper 
 tempts him into expressions that might induce 
 people to believe him vindictive and rancorous ; 
 he exaggerates all his feelings when he gives 
 utterance to them ; and here the imagination, 
 that has led to his triumph in poetry, operates 
 less happily, by giving a stronger shade to his 
 sentiments and expressions. When he writes or 
 speaks at such moments, the force of his language 
 imposes a belief that the feeling which gives 
 birth to it must be fixed in his mind ; but see 
 him in a few hours after, and not only no trace 
 of this angry excitement remains, but, if recurred
 
 312 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 to by another, he smiles at his own exaggerated 
 warmth of expression, and proves, in a thousand 
 ways, that the temper only is responsible for his 
 defects, and not the heart. 
 
 " I think it is Diderot (said Byron) who says 
 that, to describe woman, one ought to dip one's 
 pen in the rainbow ; and, instead of sand, use the 
 dust from the wings of butterflies to dry the 
 paper. This is a concetto worthy of a Frenchman; 
 and, though meant as complimentary, is really by 
 no means so to your sex. To describe woman, 
 the pen should be dipped, not in the rainbow, 
 but in the heart of man, ere more than eighteen 
 summers have passed over his head ; and, to dry 
 the paper, I would allow only the sighs of 
 adolescence. Women are best understood by 
 men whose feelings have not been hardened by a 
 contact with the world, and who believe in virtue 
 because they are unacquainted with vice. A 
 knowledge of vice will, as far as I can judge by 
 experience, invariably produce disgust, as I 
 believe, with my favourite poet, that 
 
 ' Vice is a monster of such hideous mien, 
 That, to be hated, needs but to be seen.'* 
 
 But he who has known it can never truly describe 
 woman as she ought to be described ; and, there - 
 
 " Vice is a monster of so frightful mien, 
 As to be hated needs but to be seen." 
 
 Essay on Man, Epistle II., lines 217, 218.
 
 HA IDEE AND ZULEIKA 313 
 
 fore, a perfect knowledge of the world unfits a 
 man for the task. When I attempted to describe 
 Haidee and Zuleika, I endeavoured to forget all 
 that friction with the world had taught me ; 
 and if I at all succeeded, it was because I was, 
 and am, penetrated with the conviction that 
 women only know evil from having experienced 
 it through men ; whereas men have no criterion 
 to judge of purity or goodness but woman. Some 
 portion of this purity and goodness always adheres 
 to woman, (continued Byron,) even though she 
 may lapse from virtue ; she makes a willing 
 sacrifice of herself on the altar of affection, and 
 thinks only of him for whom it is made : while 
 men think of themselves alone, and regard the 
 woman but as an object that administers to their 
 selfish gratification, and who, when she ceases to 
 have this power, is thought of no more, save as 
 an obstruction in their path. You look in- 
 credulous, (said Byron ;) but I have said what I 
 think, though not all that I think, as I have a 
 much higher opinion of your sex than I have 
 even now expressed." 
 
 This would be most gratifying could I be sure 
 that, to-morrow or next day, some sweeping 
 sarcasm against my sex may not escape from the 
 lips that have now praised them, and that my 
 credulity, in believing the praise, may not be 
 quoted as an additional proof of their weakness.
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 This instability of opinion, or expression of opinion, 
 of Byron, destroys all confidence in him, and 
 precludes the possibility of those, who live much 
 in his society, feeling that sentiment of confiding 
 security in him, without which a real regard 
 cannot subsist. It has always appeared a strange 
 anomaly to me, that Byron, who possesses such 
 acuteness in discerning the foibles and defects of 
 others, should have so little power either in 
 conquering or concealing his own, that they are 
 evident even to a superficial observer ; it is also 
 extraordinary that the knowledge of human 
 nature, which enables him to discover at a glance 
 such defects, should not dictate the wisdom of 
 concealing his discoveries, at least from those in 
 whom he has made them ; but in this he betrays 
 a total want of tact, and must often send away 
 his associates dissatisfied with themselves, and 
 still more so with him, if they happen to possess 
 discrimination or susceptibility. 
 
 " To let a person see that you have discovered 
 his faults, is to make him an enemy for life," 
 says Byron ; and yet this he does continually : 
 he says, " that the only truths a friend will tell 
 you, are your faults ; and the only thing he will 
 give you, is advice." Byron's affected display 
 of knowledge of the world deprives him of com- 
 miseration for being its dupe, while his practical 
 inexperience renders him so perpetually. He is
 
 STRENGTH OF EARLY ASSOCIATIONS 315 
 
 at war with the actual state of things, yet admits 
 that all that he now complains of has existed for 
 centuries ; and that those who have taken up 
 arms against the world have found few applaud ers, 
 and still fewer followers. His philosophy is 
 more theoretical than practical, and must so 
 continue, as long as passion and feeling have 
 more influence over him than reflection and 
 reason. Byron affects to be unfeeling, while he 
 is a victim to sensibility ; and to be reasonable, 
 while he is governed by imagination only ; and 
 so meets with no sympathy from either the 
 advocates of sensibility or reason, and consequently 
 condemns both. 
 
 " It is fortunate for those (said Byron) whose 
 near connexions are good and estimable ; in- 
 dependently of various other advantages that are 
 derived from it, perhaps the greatest of all are 
 the impressions made on our minds in early youth 
 by witnessing goodness, impressions which have 
 such weight in deciding our future opinions. If 
 we witness evil qualities in common acquaintances, 
 the effect is slight, in comparison with that made 
 by discovering them in those united to us by the 
 ties of consanguinity ; this last disgusts us with 
 human nature, and renders us doubtful of good- 
 ness, a progressive step made in misanthropy, the 
 most fearful disease that can attack the mind. 
 
 " My first arid earliest impressions were
 
 316 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 melancholy, my poor mother gave them ; but 
 to my sister, who, incapable of wrong herself, 
 suspected no wrong in others, I owe the little 
 irood of which I can boast; and had I earlier 
 
 o 
 
 known her, it might have influenced my destiny. 
 Augusta has great strength of mind, which is 
 displayed not only in her own conduct, but to 
 support the weak and infirm of purpose. 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 
 knew all my weaknesses, but she had love .enough 
 to bear with them. I value not the false sentiment 
 of affection that adheres to one while we believe 
 him faultless ; not to love him would then be 
 difficult : but give me the love that, with 
 perception to view the errors, has sufficient force 
 to pardon them, who can ' love the offender, 
 yet detest the offence;' and this my sister had. 
 She has given me -such good advice, and yet, 
 finding me incapable of following it, loved and 
 pitied me but the more, because T was erring. 
 This is true affection, and, above all, true Christian 
 feeling ; but how rarely is it to be met with in 
 England ! where amour-propre prompts people to 
 show their superiority by giving advice ; and a 
 melange of selfishness and wounded vanity 
 engages them to resent its not being followed ;
 
 CHARACTER OF MRS. LEIGH 317 
 
 which they do by not only leaving off the advised^ 
 but by injuring him by every means in their 
 power. 
 
 " Depend on it (continued Byron), the English 
 are the most perfidious friends and unkind relations 
 that the civilized world can produce ; and if you 
 have had the misfortune to lay them under 
 weighty obligations, you may look for all the 
 injuries that they can inflict, as they are anxious 
 to avenge themselves for the humiliations they 
 suffer when they accept favours. They are 
 proud, but have not sufficient pride to refuse 
 services that are necessary to their comfort, and 
 have too much false pride to be grateful. They 
 may pardon a refusal to assist them, but they 
 never can forgive a generosity which, as they are 
 seldom capable of practising or appreciating it, 
 overpowers and humiliates them. 
 
 " With this opinion of the English (continued 
 Byron), which has not been lightly formed, you 
 may imagine how truly I must value my sister, 
 who is so totally opposed to them. She is 
 tenacious of accepting obligations, even from the 
 nearest relations ; but, having accepted, is in- 
 capable of aught approaching to ingratitude. 
 
 Poor Lady had just such a sister as mine, 
 
 who, faultless herself, could pardon and weep 
 over the errors of one less pure, and almost redeem 
 them by her own excellence. Had Lady 's
 
 3 i8 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 sister or mine (continued Byron) been less good 
 and irreproachable, they could not have afforded 
 to be so forbearing ; but, being unsullied, they 
 could show mercy without fear of drawing 
 attention to their own misdemeanours." 
 
 Byron talked to-day of Campbell the poet; 
 said that he was a warm-hearted and honest 
 man ; praised his works, and quoted some passages 
 from the " Pleasures of Hope," which he said 
 was a poem full of beauties. " I differ, however, 
 (said Byron,) with my friend Campbell on some 
 points. Do you remember the passage ? 
 
 " ' And, mark the wretch, whose wanderings never knew 
 The world's regard, that soothes, though half untrue ; 
 Whose erring heart the lash of sorrow bore, 
 But found not pity when it erred no more.' " 
 
 This, he said, was so far a true picture, those who 
 once erred being supposed to err always, a 
 charitable, but false, supposition, that the English 
 are prone to act upon. " But (added Byron) I 
 am not prepared to admit, that a man, under such 
 circumstances as those so poetically described by 
 Campbell, could feel hope ; and, judging by my 
 own feelings, I should think that there would be 
 more of envy than of hope in the poor man's 
 mind, when he leaned on the gate, and looked at 
 * the blossom'd bean-field and the sloping green.' 
 Campbell was, however, right in representing it
 
 CAMPBELL'S POE.MS 319 
 
 otherwise (continued Byron). We have all, God 
 knows, occasion for hope to enable us to support 
 the thousand vexations of this dreary existence ; 
 and he who leads us to believe in this universal 
 panacea, in which, par parent fiese, I have little 
 faith, renders a service to humanity. 
 
 " Campbell's * Lochiel ' and ' Mariners ' are 
 admirable spirit-stirring productions (said Byron); 
 his * Gertrude of Wyoming ' is beautiful ; and 
 some of the episodes in his * Pleasures of Hope ' 
 pleased me so much, that I know them by heart. 
 By the bye (continued he) we must be indebted 
 to Ireland for this mode of expressing the knowing 
 anything by rote, and it is at once so true and 
 poetical, that I always use it. We certainly 
 remember best those passages, as well as events, 
 that interest us most, or touch the heart, which 
 must have given birth to the phrase 'know by 
 heart.' 
 
 " The * Pleasures of Memory ' is a very beauti- 
 ful poem (said Byron), harmonious, finished, and 
 chaste; it contains not a single meretricious orna- 
 ment. If Rogers has not fixed himself in the 
 higher fields of Parnassus, he has, at least, culti- 
 vated a very pretty flower-garden at its base. Is 
 not this (continued Byron) a poetical image 
 worthy of a conversazione at Lydia White's ? 
 But, jesting apart, for one ought to be serious in 
 talking of so serious a subject as the pleasures of
 
 320 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 memory, which, God knows, never offered any 
 pleasures to me, (mind, I mean memory, and not 
 the poem,) it really always did remind me of a 
 flower-garden, so filled with sweets, so trim, so 
 orderly. You, I am sure, know the powerful 
 poem written in a blank leaf of the ' Pleasures of 
 Memory,' by an unknown author ?* He has 
 taken my view of the subject, and I envy him 
 for expressing all that I felt ; but did not, could 
 not, express as he has done. This wilderness of 
 triste thoughts offered a curious contrast to the 
 
 f This poem, which is not to be found in all the editions of 
 the " Pleasures of Memory," is appended : 
 
 " Pleasures of Memory ! oh supremely blest, 
 And justly proud beyond a Poet's praise ! 
 If the pure confines of thy tranquil breast 
 Contain, indeed, the subject of thy lays, 
 By me how envied, for to me 
 The herald still of misery ! 
 Memory makes her influence known 
 By sighs and tears and grief alone ; 
 I greet her as the fiend, to whom belong 
 The vulture's ravening beak, the raven's funeral song. 
 
 " She tells of time misspent, of comfort lost, 
 
 Of fair occasions gone for ever by, 
 Of hopes too fondly nursed, too rudely crost, 
 Of many a cause to wish yet fear to die ; 
 For what, except th' instinctive fear, 
 Lest she survive, detains me here, 
 When ' all the life of life ' is fled ? 
 What, but the deep inherent dread 
 Lest she beyond the grave resume her reign, 
 And realize the hell that priests and beldames feign ?"
 
 POETRY OF ROGERS AND MOORE 321 
 
 hortus siccus of pretty flowers that followed it 
 (said Byron), and marks the difference between 
 inspiration and versification. 
 
 " Having compared Rogers's poem to a flower- 
 garden," continued Byron, " to what shall I 
 compare Moore's ? to the Valley of Diamonds, 
 where all is brilliant and attractive, but where 
 one is so dazzled by the sparkling on every side 
 that one knows not where to fix, each gem 
 beautiful in itself, but overpowering to the eye 
 from their quantity. Or, to descend to a more 
 homely comparison, though really," continued 
 Byron, " so brilliant a subject hardly admits of 
 anything homely, Moore's poems (with the 
 exception of the Melodies) resemble the fields 
 in Italy, covered by such myriads of fire-flies 
 shining and glittering around, that if one attempts 
 to seize one, another still more brilliant attracts, 
 and one is bewildered from too much brightness. 
 
 " I remember reading somewhere," said Byron, 
 " a concetto of designating different living poets 
 by the cups Apollo gives them to drink out of. 
 Wordsworth is made to drink from a wooden 
 bowl, and my melancholy self from a skull, chased 
 with gold. Now, I would add the following 
 cups : To Moore, I would give a cup formed 
 like the lotus flower, and set in brilliants ; to 
 Crabbe, a scooped pumpkin ; to Rogers, an 
 antique vase, formed of agate ; and to Colman, 
 
 21
 
 3 22 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 a champagne glass, as descriptive of their different 
 styles. I dare say none of them would be satis- 
 fied with the appropriation ; but who ever is 
 satisfied with anything in the shape of criticism ? 
 and least of all, poets." 
 
 Talking of Shakespeare, Byron said that he 
 owed one half of his popularity to his low origin, 
 which, like charity, covereth a multitude of sins 
 with the multitude, and the other half to the 
 remoteness of the time at which he wrote from 
 our own days. All his vulgarisms," continued 
 Byron, " are attributed to the circumstances of 
 his birth and breeding depriving him of a good 
 education ; hence they are to be excused, and the 
 obscurities with which his works abound are all 
 easily explained away by the simple statement, 
 that he wrote above 200 years ago, and that the 
 terms then in familiar use are now become 
 obsolete. With two such good excuses, as want 
 of education, and having written above 200 years 
 before our time, any writer may pass muster ; 
 and when to these is added the being a sturdy 
 hind of low degree, which to three parts of the 
 community in England has a peculiar attraction, 
 one ceases to wonder at his supposed popularity ; 
 I say supposed, for who goes to see his plays, and 
 who, except country parsons, or mouthing, stage- 
 struck, theatrical amateurs, read them ?" 
 
 I told Byron what really was, and is, my
 
 DEPRECIATION OF SHAKESPEARE 323 
 
 impression, that he was not sincere in his depre- 
 ciation of our immortal bard ; and I added, that 
 I preferred believing him insincere, than incapable 
 of judging works, which his own writings proved 
 he must, more than most other men, feel the 
 beauties of. He laughed, and replied, " That 
 the compliment I paid to his writings was so 
 entirely at the expense of his sincerity, that he 
 had no cause to be flattered ; but that, knowing 
 I was one of those who worshipped Shakespeare, 
 he forgave me, and would only bargain that I 
 made equal allowance for his worship of Pope." 
 I observed, " That any comparison between the 
 two was as absurd as comparing some magnifi- 
 cent feudal castle, surrounded by mountains and 
 forests, with foaming cataracts, and boundless 
 lakes, to the pretty villa of Pope, with its sheen 
 lawn, artificial grotto, stunted trees, and trim 
 exotics." He said that my simile was more 
 ingenious than just, and hoped that I was pre- 
 pared to admit that Pope was the greatest of all 
 modern poets, and a philosopher as well as a poet. 
 I made my peace by expressing my sincere 
 admiration of Pope, but begged to be understood 
 as refusing to admit any comparison between 
 him and Shakespeare ; and so the subject ended. 
 
 Byron is so prone to talk for effect, and to 
 assert what he does not believe, that one must be 
 cautious in giving implicit credence to his
 
 3 2 4 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 opinions. My conviction is, that, in spite of 
 his declarations to the contrary, he admires 
 Shakespeare as much as most of his country- 
 men do ; but that, unlike the generality of them, 
 he sees the blemishes that the freedom of the 
 times in which the great poet lived led him to 
 indulge in in his writings, in a stronger point of 
 view, and takes pleasure in commenting on them 
 with severity, as a means of wounding the vanity 
 of the English. I have rarely met with a person 
 more conversant with the works of Shakespeare 
 than was Byron. I have heard him quote 
 passages from them repeatedly ; and in a tone 
 that marked how well he appreciated their 
 beauty, which certainly lost nothing in his 
 delivery of them, as few possessed a more har- 
 monious voice or a more elegant pronunciation 
 than did Byron. Could there be a less equivocal 
 proof of his admiration of our immortal bard than 
 the tenacity with which his memory retained the 
 finest passages of all his works ? When I made 
 this observation to him he smiled, and affected to 
 boast that his memory was so retentive that it 
 equally retained all that he read ; but as I had 
 seen many proofs of the contrary, I persevered in 
 affirming what I have never ceased to believe, 
 that, in despite of his professions to the reverse, 
 Byron was in his heart a warm admirer of Shake- 
 speare.
 
 [325 ] 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Duke of Wellington " LesEssais de Montaigne" An amusing 
 idea Burton's "Anatomy of Melancholy"- A severe 
 criticism An excuse for the plagiarist How to be original 
 Dr. Richardson's "Travels along the Mediterranean" 
 Two opinions Medical men In a cider cellar Tom Cribb, 
 the champion pugilist Madame de Stael Sir James and 
 Lady Mackintosh " Comme vous resemblez un perroquet "- 
 Religious women The cant of false religion Ada Lady 
 Lovelace Her father's portrait Byron's presentiment of 
 death in Greece John Fitzgibbon, second Earl of Clare, a 
 schoolfellow of Byron, and the Lycus in " Childish Recollec- 
 tions" Byron's three friends His wish to visit England 
 before going to Greece His mental reservation in intimate 
 intercourse What might have been A literary epoch. 
 
 BYRON takes a peculiar pleasure in opposing 
 himself to popular opinion on all points; he 
 wishes to be thought as dissenting from the 
 multitude, and this affectation is the secret source 
 of many of the incongruities he expresses. One 
 cannot help lamenting that so great a genius 
 should be sullied by this weakness ; but he has 
 so many redeeming points that we must pardon 
 what we cannot overlook, and attribute this error 
 to the imperfectibility of human nature. Once
 
 3 a6 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 thoroughly acquainted with his peculiarities, 
 much that appeared incomprehensible is ex- 
 plained, and one knows when to refuse belief to 
 assertions that are not always worthy of com- 
 manding it, because uttered from the caprice of 
 the moment. 
 
 He declares that such is his bad opinion of the 
 taste and feelings of the English, that he should 
 be prejudiced against any work that they 
 admired, or any person whom they praised ; and 
 that their admiration of his own works has rather 
 confirmed than softened his judgment of them. 
 " It was the exaggerated praises of the people 
 in England," said he, " that indisposed me to 
 the Duke of Wellington. I know that the 
 same herd, who were trying to make an idol of 
 him, would, on any reverse, or change of opinions, 
 hurl him from the pedestal to which they had 
 raised him, and lay their idol in the dust.* I 
 remember," continued Byron, " enraging some 
 of his Grace's worshippers, after the battle of 
 Waterloo, by quoting the lines from Ariosto : 
 
 " ' Fu il vincer sempre mai lodabil cosa, 
 Vincasi b per fortuna 6 per ingegnio,' 
 
 in answer to their appeal to me, if he was not 
 the greatest general that ever existed." 
 
 * This was curiously fulfilled when Apsley House was attacked, 
 and the windows broken, in consequence of which they were 
 afterwards protected by iron shutters.
 
 THE DUKE OF WELLINGTON 327 
 
 I told Byron that his quotation was insidious, 
 but that the Duke had gained too many victories 
 to admit the possibility of any of them being 
 achieved more by chance than ability ; and that, 
 like his attacks on Shakespeare, he was not 
 sincere in disparaging Wellington, as I was sure 
 he must au fond be as proud of him as all other 
 Englishmen are. " What !" said Byron, " could 
 a Whig be proud of Wellington! would this be 
 consistent ?" 
 
 The whole of Byron's manner, and his 
 countenance on this and other occasions, when 
 the name of the Duke of Wellington has been 
 mentioned, conveyed the impression that he had 
 not been de bonne foi in his censures on him. 
 Byron's words and feelings are so often opposed, 
 and both so completely depend on the humour 
 of the moment, that those who know him well 
 could never attach much confidence to the 
 stability of his sentiments, or the force of his 
 expressions ; nor could they feel surprised, or 
 angry, at hearing that he had spoken unkindly 
 of some for whom he really felt friendship. This 
 habit of censuring is his ruling passion, and he 
 is now too old to correct it. 
 
 " I have been amused," said Byron, " in reading 
 ' Les Essais de Montaigne,' to find how severe 
 he is on the sentiment of tristesse : we are always 
 severe on that particular passion to which we
 
 328 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 are not addicted, and the French are exempt 
 from this. Montaigne says that the Italians were 
 right in translating their word tristezza, which 
 means frisfesse, into malignite ; and this," con- 
 tinued Byron, " explains my mechancete, for that 
 I am subject to frisfesse cannot be doubted; 
 and if that means, as Le Sieur de Montaigne 
 states, la malignite, this is the secret of all my 
 evil doings, or evil imaginings, and probably is 
 also the source of my inspiration." This idea 
 appeared to amuse him very much, and he 
 dwelt on it with apparent satisfaction, saying 
 that it absolved him from a load of responsi- 
 bility, as he considered himself, according to 
 this, as no more accountable for the satires he 
 might write or speak, than for his personal 
 deformity. Nature, he said, had to answer for 
 malignite as well as for deformity ; she gave both, 
 and the unfortunate persons on whom she 
 bestowed them were not to be blamed for their 
 effects. 
 
 Byron said that Montaigne was one of the 
 French writers that amused him the most, as, 
 independently of the quaintness with which he 
 made his observations, a perusal of his works 
 was like a repetition at school, they rubbed up 
 the reader's classical knowledge. He added, that 
 Burton's " Anatomy of Melancholy " was also 
 excellent, from the quantity of desultory informa-
 
 MONTAIGNE AND HIS CRITICS 329 
 
 tion it contained, and was a mine of knowledge 
 that, though much worked, was inexhaustible. 
 I told him that he seemed to think more highly 
 of Montaigne than did some of his own country- 
 men ; for that when the Cardinal du Perron 
 " appelloit les Essais de Montaigne k breviaire des 
 honnetes gens ; le celebre Huet, eveque d'Avranche, 
 les disoit celui des honnetes paresseux et des ignorans, 
 qui veulent senfariner de quelque teinture des 
 lettres " Byron said that the critique was severe, 
 but just ; for Montaigne was the greatest 
 plagiarist that ever existed, and certainly had 
 turned his reading to the most account. 
 
 " But," said Byron, " who is the author that 
 is not, intentionally or unintentionally, a plagiarist ? 
 Many more, I am persuaded, are the latter than 
 the former ; for if one has read much, it is 
 difficult, if not impossible, to avoid adopting, not 
 only the thoughts, but the expressions of others, 
 which, after they have been some time stored in 
 our minds, appear to us to come forth ready 
 formed, like Minerva from the brain of Jupiter, 
 and we fancy them our own progeny, instead of 
 being those of adoption. I met lately a passage 
 in a French book," continued Byron, " that states, 
 a propos of plagiaries, that it was from the preface 
 to the works of Montaigne, by Mademoiselle de 
 Gournay, his adopted daughter, that Pascal stole 
 his image of the Divinity : * C'est un cercle^ dont
 
 330 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 la circonference est par-tout^ et le centre nulle part'* 
 So you see that even the saintly Pascal could 
 steal as well as another, and was probably un- 
 conscious of the theft. 
 
 " To be perfectly original," continued Byron, 
 " one should think much and read little ; and 
 this is impossible, as one must have read much 
 before one learns to think ; for I have no faith 
 in innate ideas, whatever I may have in innate 
 predispositions. But after one has laid in a 
 tolerable stock of materials for thinking, I should 
 think the best plan would be to give the mind 
 time to digest it, and then turn it all well over 
 by thought and reflection, by which we make 
 the knowledge acquired our own ; and on this 
 foundation we may let our originality (if we have 
 any) build a superstructure, and if not, it supplies 
 our want of it, to a certain degree. I am accused 
 of plagiarism," continued Byron, " as I see by the 
 newspapers. If I am guilty, I have many partners 
 in the crime ; for I assure you I scarcely know a 
 living author who might not have a similar charge 
 brought against him, and whose thoughts I have 
 not occasionally found in the works of others ; so 
 that this consoles me. 
 
 ' The book you lent me, Dr. Richardson's 
 
 h The actual words of Pascal are : " Dieu est unc sphere infinie 
 tfont le centre est partout> la circonference nulle part."
 
 DR. RICHARDSON'S TRAVELS 331 
 
 * Travels along the Mediterranean/ "* said Byron, 
 " is an excellent work. It abounds in informa- 
 tion, sensibly and unaffectedly conveyed, and 
 even without Lord Blessington's praises of the 
 author, would have led me to conclude that he 
 was an enlightened, sensible, and thoroughly good 
 man. He is always in earnest," continued Byron, 
 " and never writes for effect : his language is well 
 chosen and correct ; and his religious views un- 
 affected and sincere without bigotry. He is just 
 the sort of man I should like to have with me 
 for Greece clever, both as a man and a physi- 
 cian ; for I require both one for my mind, and 
 the other for my body, which is a little the 
 worse for wear, from the bad usage of the 
 troublesome tenant that has inhabited it, God 
 help me ! 
 
 " It is strange," said Byron, " how seldom one 
 
 * Dr. Robert Richardson's " Travels " during the years 1816 
 to 1818 extended as far as the Second Cataract of the Nile, 
 and embraced Jerusalem, Damascus, and Baalbec. He journeyed 
 as physician with the Earl of Belmore. His work in two volumes 
 was published in 1822, and reviewed in the October number 
 of The Quarterly for that year. The reviewer expresses himself 
 about the book in different terms from Byron: "As a writer of 
 travels, he is neither so entertaining nor so instructive as might be 
 wished, mistaking frequently cant and vulgar phrases for wit, and 
 uncouth words for learning. That he has told the truth we cannot 
 for a moment doubt ; but that he has told it, as he says, ' in as few 
 words, and in as agreeable a manner as possible,' we can by no 
 means concede to him."
 
 332 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 meets with clever, sensible men in the professions 
 of divinity or physic ! and yet they are precisely 
 the professions that most peculiarly demand in- 
 telligence and ability, as to keep the soul and 
 body in good health requires no ordinary talents. 
 I have, I confess, as little faith in medicine as 
 Napoleon had. I think it has many remedies, 
 but few specifics. I do not know if we arrived 
 at the same conclusion by the same road. Mine 
 has been drawn from observing that the medical 
 men who fell in my way were, in general, so 
 deficient in ability, that even had the science 
 of medicine been fifty times more simplified than 
 it ever will be in our time, they had not intel- 
 ligence enough to comprehend or reduce it to 
 practice, which has given me a much greater 
 dread of remedies than diseases. 
 
 " Medical men do not sufficiently attend to 
 idiosyncrasy," continued Byron, "on which so 
 much depends, and often hurry to the grave one 
 patient by a treatment that has succeeded with 
 another. The moment they ascertain a disease 
 to be the same as one they have known, they con- 
 clude the same remedies that cured the first must 
 remove the second, not making allowance for the 
 peculiarities of temperament, habits, and disposi- 
 tion ; which last has a great influence in maladies. 
 All that I have seen of physicians has given me 
 a dread of them, which dread will continue until
 
 SELF-INFLICTED MISERIES 333 
 
 I have met a doctor like your friend Richardson, 
 who proves himself to be a sensible and intelligent 
 man. I maintain," continued Byron, "that more 
 than half our maladies are produced by accustom- 
 ing ourselves to more sustenance than is required 
 for the support of nature. We put too much oil 
 into the lamp, and it blazes and burns out; but if 
 we only put enough to feed the flame, it burns 
 brightly and steadily. We have, God knows, 
 sufficient alloy in our compositions, without 
 reducing them still nearer to the brute by over- 
 feeding. I think that one of the reasons why 
 women are in general so much better than men, 
 for I do think they are, whatever I may say to 
 the contrary," continued Byron, " is, that they do 
 not indulge in gourmandise as men do ; and, con- 
 sequently, do not labour under the complicated 
 horrors that indigestion produces, which has such 
 a dreadful effect on the temper, as I have both 
 witnessed and felt. 
 
 " There is nothing I so much dread as flattery," 
 said Byron ; " not that I mean to say I dislike it, 
 for, on the contrary, if well administered, it is 
 very agreeable, but I dread it because I know, 
 from experience, we end by disliking those we 
 flatter : it is the mode we take to avenge our- 
 selves for stooping to the humiliation of flattering 
 them. On this account, I never flatter those I 
 really like ; and, also, I should be fearful and
 
 334 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 jealous of owing their regard for me to the 
 pleasure my flattery gave them. I am not so 
 forbearing with those I am indifferent about ; for 
 seeing how much people like flattery, I cannot 
 resist giving them some, and it amuses me to see 
 how they swallow even the largest doses. Now, 
 
 there is and ; who could live on 
 
 passable terms with them, that did not administer 
 to their vanity? One tells you all his bonnes 
 fortunes, and would never forgive you if you 
 appeared to be surprised at their extent; and 
 the other talks to you of prime ministers and 
 dukes by their surnames, and cannot state the 
 most simple fact or occurrence without telling 
 you that Wellington or Devonshire told him so. 
 One does not," continued Byron, " meet this last 
 faiblesse out of England, and not then, I must 
 admit, except among parvenus. 
 
 " It is doubtful which, vanity or conceit, is the 
 most offensive," said Byron ; " but I think con- 
 ceit is, because the gratification of vanity depends 
 on the suffrages of others, to gain which vain 
 people must endeavour to please ; but as conceit 
 is content with its own approbation, it makes no 
 sacrifice, and is not susceptible of humiliation. I 
 confess that I have a spiteful pleasure," continued 
 Byron, "in mortifying conceited people; and the 
 gratification is enhanced by the difficulty of the 
 task.
 
 335 
 
 " One of the reasons why I dislike society is, 
 that its contact excites all the evil qualities of my 
 nature, which, like the fire in the flint, can only 
 be elicited by friction. My philosophy is more 
 theoretical than practical : it is never at hand 
 when I want it ; and the puerile passions that I 
 witness in those whom I encounter excite dis- 
 gust when examined near, though, viewed at a 
 distance, they only create pity : that is to say, 
 in simple homely truth," continued Byron, " the 
 follies of mankind, when they touch me not, I 
 can be lenient to, and moralize on ; but if they 
 rub against my own, there is an end to the 
 philosopher. We are all better in solitude, and 
 more especially if we are tainted with evil 
 passions, which, God help us ! we all are, more 
 or less," said Byron. " They are not then 
 brought into action : reason and reflection have 
 time and opportunity to resume that influence 
 over us which they rarely can do if we are actors 
 in the busy scene of life ; and we grow better, 
 because we believe ourselves better. Our passions 
 often only sleep when we suppose them dead ; 
 and we are not convinced of our mistake till they 
 awake with renewed strength, gained by repose. 
 We are, therefore, wise when we choose solitude, 
 where ' passions sleep and reason wakes ;' for if 
 we cannot conquer the evil qualities that adhere 
 to our nature, we do well to encourage their
 
 33 6 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 slumber. Like cases of acute pain, when the phy- 
 sician cannot remove the malady he administers 
 
 soporifics. 
 
 "When I recommend solitude," said Byron, 
 <l I do not mean the solitude of country neigh- 
 bourhood, where people pass their time a dire, 
 redire, et medire. No ! I mean a regular retire- 
 ment, with a woman that one loves, and inter- 
 rupted only by a correspondence with a man that 
 one esteems, though if we put plural of man, it 
 would be more agreeable for the correspondence. 
 By this means, friendships would not be subject 
 to the variations and estrangements that are so 
 often caused by a frequent personal intercourse ; 
 and we might delude ourselves into a belief that 
 they were sincere, and might be lasting two 
 difficult articles of faith in my creed of friendship. 
 Socrates and Plato," continued Byron, " ridiculed 
 Laches, who defined fortitude to consist in re- 
 maining firm in the ranks opposed to the enemy ; 
 and I agree with those philosophers in thinking 
 that a retreat is not inglorious, whether from the 
 enemy in the field or in the town, if one feels 
 one's own weakness, and anticipates a defeat. I 
 feel that society is my enemy, in even more than 
 a figurative sense : I have not fled, but retreated 
 from it ; and if solitude has not made me better, 
 I am sure it has prevented my becoming worse, 
 which is a point gained.
 
 AFFECTED REFINEMENT 337 
 
 " Have you ever observed," said Byron, " the 
 extreme dread that parvenus have of aught that 
 approaches to vulgarity ? In manners, letters, 
 conversation, nay, even in literature, they are 
 always superfine ; and a man of birth would 
 unconsciously hazard a thousand dubious phrases 
 sooner than a parvenu would risk the possibility 
 of being suspected of one. One of the many 
 advantages of birth is, that it saves one from this 
 hypercritical gentility, and he of noble blood 
 may be natural without the fear of being accused 
 of vulgarity. 
 
 " I have left an assembly filled with all the 
 names of haut ton in London, and where little 
 but names were to be found, to seek relief from 
 the ennui that overpowered me, in a cider 
 cellar : are you not shocked ? and have found 
 there more food for speculation than in the vapid 
 circles of glittering dulness I had left. - or 
 
 dared not have done this ; but I had the 
 patent of nobility to carry me through it, and 
 what would have been deemed originality and 
 spirit in me, would have been considered a 
 natural bias to vulgar habits in them. In my 
 works, too, I have dared to pass the frozen mole- 
 hills I cannot call them Alps, though they are 
 frozen eminences of high life, and have used 
 common thoughts and common words to express 
 
 my impressions ; where poor would have 
 
 22
 
 33 8 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 clarified each thought, and double-refined each 
 sentence, until he had reduced them to the 
 polished and cold temperature of the illuminated 
 houses of ice that he loves to frequent; which 
 have always reminded me of the palace of ice 
 built to please an empress, cold, glittering, and 
 
 costly. But I suppose that and - like 
 
 them, from the same cause that I like high life 
 below stairs, not being born to it : there is a 
 good deal in this. I have been abused for dining 
 at Tom Cribb's,* where I certainly was amused, 
 and have returned from a dinner where the 
 guests were composed of the magnates of the 
 land, where I had nigh gone to sleep at least 
 my intellect slumbered so dullified was I and 
 those around me, by the soporific quality of the 
 conversation, if conversation it might be called. 
 
 " For a long time I thought it was my consti- 
 tutional melancholy that made me think London 
 
 * Tom Cribb, born July 8th, 1781, died May nth, 1848, was 
 the champion pugilist of his day. In 1811 he retired from the 
 business of boxing and became a coal merchant, and failing in 
 that business he became a publican. He taught boxing, and 
 Byron was one of his pupils. When the Emperor of Russia and 
 the King of Prussia visited London in 1814, he was called upon 
 to exhibit before them his skill in the art of sparring. At the 
 coronation of George IV. he was one of the prize-fighters, dressed 
 as pages, who guarded the entrance to Westminster Hall. He 
 was buried in Woolwich Churchyard, and sympathizing friends 
 erected a monument to his memory there, on which a lion is 
 represented grieving over the ashes of a hero.
 
 MADAME DE STAEL 339 
 
 society so insufferably tiresome; but I discovered 
 that those who had no such malady found it 
 equally so ; the only difference was that they 
 yawned under the nightly inflictions, yet still 
 continued to bear them, while I writhed, and 
 ' muttered curses not loud but deep ' against the 
 well-dressed automatons that threw a spell over 
 my faculties, making me doubt if I could any 
 longer feel or think ; and I have sought the 
 solitude of my chamber, almost doubting my 
 own identity, or, at least, my sanity ; such was 
 the overpowering effect produced on me by 
 exclusive society in London. Madame de Stael 
 was the only person of talent I ever knew who 
 was not overcome by it ; but this was owing 
 to the constant state of excitement she was kept 
 in by her extraordinary self-complacency, and the 
 mystifications of the dandies, who made her 
 believe all sorts of things. I have seen her 
 entranced by them, listening with undisguised 
 delight to exaggerated compliments, uttered only 
 to hoax her, by persons incapable of appreciating 
 her genius, and who doubted its existence from 
 the facility with which she received mystifications 
 which would have been detected in a moment by 
 the most common-place woman in the room. It 
 is thus genius and talent are judged of," continued 
 Byron, " by those who, having neither, are in- 
 capable of understanding them ; and a punster
 
 340 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 may glory in puzzling a genius of the first order, 
 by a play on words that was below his compre- 
 hension, though suited to that of the most 
 ordinary understandings. 
 
 " Madame de Stae'l had no tact ; she would 
 believe anything, merely because she did not 
 take the trouble to examine, being too much 
 occupied with self, and often said the most 
 mal a propos things, because she was thinking not 
 of the person she addressed, but of herself. She 
 had a party to dine with her one day in London, 
 when Sir James and Lady [Mackintosh ?] entered 
 the drawing-room, the lady dressed in a green 
 gown, with a shawl of the same verdant hue, and 
 a bright red turban. Madame de Stae'l marched 
 up to her in her eager manner, and exclaimed, 
 * Ah, mon Dieu, miladi ! comme vous ressemblez 
 a un perroquet T The poor lady looked con- 
 founded : the company tried, but in vain, to 
 suppress the smiles the observation excited ; but 
 all felt that the making it betrayed a total want 
 of tact in the ' Corinne.' 
 
 " Does the cant of sentiment still continue 
 in England ?" asked Byron. " < Childe Harold ' 
 called it forth ; but my 'Juan ' was well calculated 
 to cast it into shade, and had that merit, if it had 
 no other ; but I must not refer to the Don, as 
 that, I remember, is a prohibited subject between 
 us. Nothing sickens me so completely," said
 
 SENTIMENT IN WOMEN 
 
 Byron, " as women who affect sentiment in 
 conversation. A woman without sentiment is 
 not a woman ; but I have observed, that those 
 who most display it in words have least of the 
 reality. Sentiment, like love and grief, should 
 be reserved for privacy ; and when I hear women 
 affichant their sentimentality, I look upon it as 
 an allegorical mode of declaring their wish of 
 finding an object on whom they could bestow 
 its superfluity. 
 
 " I am of a jealous nature," said Byron, "and 
 should wish to call slumbering sentiment into 
 life in the woman I love, instead of finding that 
 I was chosen, from its excess and activity rendering 
 a partner in the firm indispensable. I should 
 hate a woman," continued Byron, " who could 
 laugh at or ridicule sentiment, as I should, and 
 do, women who have not religious feelings: and, 
 much as I dislike bigotry, I think it a thousand 
 times more pardonable in a woman than irreligion. 
 There is something unfeminine in the want of 
 religion, that takes off the peculiar charm of 
 woman. It inculcates mildness, forbearance, and 
 charity, those graces that adorn them more than 
 all others," continued Byron, " and whose 
 beneficent effects are felt, not only on their 
 minds and manners, but are visible in their 
 countenances, to which they give their own 
 sweet character. But when I say that I admire
 
 342 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 religion in women," said Byron, " don't fancy 
 that I like sectarian ladies, distributors of tracts, 
 armed and ready for controversies, many of whom 
 only preach religion, but do not practise it. No; 
 I like to know that it is the guide of woman's 
 actions, the softener of her words, the soother 
 of her cares, and those of all dear to her, who 
 are comforted by her, that it is, in short, the 
 animating principle to which all else is referred. 
 
 " When I see women professing religion and 
 violating its duties, mothers turning from erring 
 daughters, instead of staying to reclaim, sisters 
 deserting sisters, whom, in their hearts, they 
 know to be more pure than themselves, and 
 wives abandoning husbands on the ground of 
 faults that they should have wept over, and 
 redeemed by the force of love, then it is," 
 continued Byron, " that I exclaim against the 
 cant of false religion, and laugh at the credulity 
 of those who can reconcile such conduct with 
 the dictates of a creed that ordains forgiveness, 
 and commands that ' if a man be overtaken in 
 a fault, ye which are spiritual restore such a one 
 m the spirit of meekness ; considering thyself, 
 lest thou also be tempted ;' and that tells a wife, 
 that if she hath an husband that believeth not, 
 and if he be pleased to dwell with her, let her 
 not leave him. For the unbelieving husband is 
 sanctified by the wife,' etc.
 
 THE INFLUENCE OF TRUE RELIGION 343 
 
 " Now, people professing religion either believe, 
 or do not believe, such creeds," continued Byron. 
 " If they believe, and act contrary to their belief, 
 what avails their religion, except to throw 
 discredit on its followers, by showing that they 
 practise not its tenets ? and if they inwardly 
 disbelieve, as their conduct would lead one to 
 think, are they not guilty of hypocrisy ? It is 
 such incongruities between the professions and 
 conduct of those who affect to be religious that 
 puts me out of patience," continued Byron, " and 
 makes me wage war with cant, and not, as many 
 suppose, a disbelief or want of faith in religion. 
 I want to see it practised, and to know, which is 
 soon made known by the conduct, that it dwells 
 in the heart, instead of being on the lips only 
 of its votaries. Let me not be told that the 
 mothers, sisters, and wives, who violate the duties 
 such relationships impose, are good and religious 
 people : let it be admitted that a mother, sister, 
 or wife, who deserts instead of trying to lead 
 back the stray sheep to the flock, cannot be truly 
 religious, and I shall exclaim no more against 
 hypocrisy and cant, because they will no longer 
 be dangerous. Poor Mrs. Sheppard tried more, 
 and did more, to reclaim me," continued Byron, 
 " than - : but no ; as I have been preaching 
 religion, I shall practise one of its tenets, and 
 be charitable ; so I shall not finish the sentence."
 
 344 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 It appears to me that Byron has reflected 
 much on religion, and that many, if not all, the 
 doubts and sarcasms he has expressed on it are 
 to be attributed only to his enmity against 
 its false worshippers. He is indignant at seeing 
 people professing it governed wholly by worldly 
 principles in their conduct ; and fancies that he 
 is serving the true cause by exposing the votaries 
 that he thinks dishonour it. He forgets that in 
 so exposing and decrying them, he is breaking 
 through the commandments of charity he admires, 
 and says ought to govern our actions towards our 
 erring brethren ; but that he reflects deeply on 
 the subject of religion and its duties, is, I hope, 
 a step gained in the right path, in which I trust 
 he will continue to advance : and which step I 
 attribute, as does he, to the effect the prayer of 
 Mrs. Sheppard had on his mind,' and which, it is 
 evident, has made a lasting impression, by the 
 frequency and seriousness with which he refers 
 to it. 
 
 'There are two blessings of which people 
 never know the value until they have lost them/' 
 said Byron, " health and reputation. And not 
 only is their loss destructive to our own happi- 
 ness, but injurious to the peace and comfort of 
 our friends. Health seldom goes without temper 
 accompanying it; and, that fled, we become a 
 burden on the patience of those around us, until
 
 EVIL OF LOSING CASTE 345 
 
 dislike replaces pity and forbearance. Loss of 
 reputation entails still greater evils. In losing 
 caste, deservedly or otherwise," continued Byron, 
 " we become reckless and misanthropic : we 
 cannot sympathize with those from whom we 
 are separated by the barrier of public opinion, 
 and pride becomes ' the scorpion, girt by fire,' 
 that turns on our own breasts the sting prepared 
 for our enemies. Shakespeare says, that * it is a 
 bitter thing to look into happiness through 
 another man's eyes ;' and this must he do," said 
 Byron, " who has lost his reputation. Nay, 
 rendered nervously sensitive by the falseness of 
 his position, he sees, or fancies he sees, scorn or 
 avoidance in the eyes of all he encounters ; and, 
 as it is well known that we are never so jealous 
 of the respect of others as when we have forfeited 
 our own, every mark of coldness or disrespect he 
 meets with arouses a host of angry feelings, that 
 prey upon his peace. 
 
 " Such a man is to be feared," continued 
 Byron ; " and yet how many such have the 
 world made ! how many errors have not slander 
 and calumny magnified into crimes of the darkest 
 dye ! and, malevolence and injustice having set 
 the condemned seal on the reputation of him 
 who has been judged without a trial, he is driven 
 without the pale of society, a sense of injustice 
 rankling in his heart ; and if his hand be not
 
 346 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 against each man, the hand, or at least the tongue, 
 of each man is against him. The genius and 
 powers of such a man," continued Byron, " act 
 but as fresh incitements to the unsated malice of 
 his calumniators ; and the fame they win is but 
 as the flame that consumes the funeral pile, whose 
 blaze attracts attention to the substance that feeds 
 it. Mediocrity is to be desired for those who 
 lose caste, because, if it gains not pardon for 
 errors, it sinks them into oblivion. But genius," 
 continued Byron, " reminds the enemies of its 
 possessor, of his existence, and of their injustice. 
 They are enraged that he on whom they heaped 
 obloquy can surmount it, and elevate himself on 
 new ground, where their malice cannot obstruct 
 his path." 
 
 It was impossible not to see that his own 
 position had led Byron to these reflections ; and 
 on observing the changes in his expressive counte- 
 nance while uttering them, who could resist pity- 
 ing the morbid feelings which had given them 
 birth ? The milk and honey that flowed in his 
 breast has been turned to gall by the bitterness 
 with which his errors have been assailed ; but 
 even now, so much of human kindness remains 
 in his nature, that I am persuaded the effusions of 
 wounded pride which embody themselves in the 
 biting satires that escape from him, are more pro- 
 ductive of pain to him who writes, than to those
 
 BYRON AS A FREE LANCE 347 
 
 on whom they are written. Knowing Byron as 
 I do, I could forgive the most cutting satire his 
 pen ever traced, because I know the bitter 
 feelings and violent reaction which led to it ; 
 and that, in thus avenging some real or imagined 
 injury on individuals, he looks on them as a part 
 of that great whole, of which that world which 
 he has waged war with, and that he fancies has 
 waged war with him, is composed. 
 
 He looks on himself like a soldier in action, 
 who, without any individual resentment, strikes 
 at all within his reach, as component parts of the 
 force to which he is opposed. If this be inde- 
 fensible, and all must admit that it is so, let us 
 be merciful even while we are condemning ; and 
 let us remember what must have been the heart- 
 aches and corroding thoughts of a mind so sensi- 
 tive as Byron's, ere the last weapons of despair 
 were resorted to, and the fearful sally, the forlorn 
 hope attack, on the world's opinions made, while 
 many of those opinions had partisans within his 
 own breast, even while he stood in the last breach 
 of defeated hope to oppose them. 
 
 The poison in which he has dipped the arrows 
 aimed at the world has long been preying on his 
 own life, and has been produced by the dele- 
 terious draughts administered by that world, and 
 which he has quaffed to the dregs, until it has 
 turned the once healthful current of his existence
 
 348 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 into deadly venom, poisoning all the fine and 
 generous qualities that adorned his nature. He 
 feels what he might have been, and what he is, 
 and detests the world that has marred his destiny. 
 But, as the passions lose their empire, he will 
 think differently : the veil which now obscures 
 his reason will pass away, like clouds dispelled by 
 the sun; he will learn to distinguish much of 
 good, where he has hitherto seen only evil ; and 
 no longer braving the world, and, to enrage it, 
 assuming faults he has not, he will let the good 
 qualities he has make themselves known, and gain 
 that good-will and regard they were formed to 
 conciliate. 
 
 " 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 
 
 * Sixteen months before her death, Ada Lady Lovelace paid a 
 visit to the home of her ancestors, and in the great library Colonel 
 Wildman, the then proprietor of Newstead Abbey, quoted a passage 
 from Byron's works to Byron's daughter, and she, touched by the 
 beauty of the words, inquired the name of the author. For reply, 
 Colonel Wildman pointed to the painting of her father, which 
 hung on the library wall. It came as a revelation to her. She 
 confessed that she was brought up in complete ignorance of all 
 that regarded her father. From that time Lady Lovelace devoted 
 herself to a close study of her father's life and works. The loss 
 of the affection of that noble heart, which had so long been kept 
 from her, preyed upon her mind : she fell ill so ill that she knew
 
 IF 
 
 London., RicKajL-tLB oirtley &. Son. J S 9 ?.
 
 BYRON AND HIS DAUGHTER 349 
 
 conceal my porrait ftrom her eyes, it cannot here- 
 after 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 shed over 
 expressions wrung from me by mental agony, 
 the certainty that she will enter into the senti- 
 ments which dictated the various allusions to her 
 and myself in my works, consoles me in many a 
 gloomy hour. Ada's mother has feasted on the 
 smiles of her infancy and growth, but the tears of 
 her maturity shall be mine." 
 
 I thought it a good opportunity to represent to 
 Byron, that this thought alone should operate to 
 prevent his ever writing a page which could bring 
 the blush of offended modestv to the cheek of his 
 
 j 
 
 daughter ; and that, if he hoped to live in her 
 heart, unsullied by aught that could abate her 
 admiration, he ought never more to write a line 
 of " Don Juan." He remained silent for some 
 
 she could never hope to recover. In this last illness she wrote 
 Colonel Wildman a letter begging to be buried beside her father. 
 " Yes, I will be buried there : not where my mother can join me, 
 but by the side of him who so loved me, and whom I was not 
 taught to love ; and this reunion of our bodies in the grave shall 
 be an emblem of the union of our spirits in the bosom of the 
 eternal." V. R. R. 
 
 Lord Byron was buried in the church of Hucknall Torkard, 
 Notts, in which may be seen a monument to him, erected by 
 his sister, Mrs. Leigh.
 
 350 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 minutes, and then said, " You are right ; I never 
 recollected this. I am jealously tenacious of the 
 undivided sympathy of my daughter; and that 
 work, (' Don Juan/) written to beguile hours of 
 tristesse and wretchedness, is well calculated to 
 loosen my hold on her affection. I will write no 
 more of it ; would that I had never written a 
 line!" 
 
 There is something tender and beautiful in the 
 deep love with which poor Byron turns to his 
 daughter. This is his last resting-place, and on 
 her heart has he cast his last anchor of hope. 
 When one reflects that he looks not to consola- 
 tion from her during his life, as he believes her 
 mother implacable, and only hopes that, when 
 the grave has closed over him, his child will 
 cherish his memory, and weep over his mis- 
 fortunes, it is impossible not to sympathize with 
 his feelings. Poor Byron ! why is he not always 
 true to himself? Who can, like him, excite 
 sympathy, even when one knows him to be 
 erring ? But he shames one out of one's natural 
 and better feelings by his mockery of self. 
 Alas! 
 
 " His is a lofty spirit, turn'd aside 
 From its bright path by woes, and wrongs, and pride ; 
 And onward in its new, tumultuous course, 
 Borne with too rapid and intense a force 
 To pause one moment in the dread career, 
 And ask if such could be its native sphere ?"
 
 HIS AVOWED INSINCERITY 351 
 
 How unsatisfactory is it to find one's feelings 
 with regard to Byron varying every day ! This 
 is because he is never two days the same. The 
 day after he has awakened the deepest interest, 
 his manner of scoffing at himself and others 
 destroys it, and one feels as if one had been duped 
 into a sympathy, only to be laughed at. 
 
 " I have been accused (said Byron) of thinking 
 ill of women. This has proceeded from my 
 sarcastic observations on them in conversation, 
 much more than from what .1 have written. 
 The fact is, I always say whatever comes into 
 my head, and very often say things to provoke 
 people to whom I am talking. If I meet a 
 romantic person, with what I call a too exalted 
 opinion of women, I have a peculiar satisfaction 
 in speaking lightly of them ; not out of pique to 
 your sex, but to mortify their champion ; as I 
 always conclude, that when a man over-praises 
 women, he does it to convey the impression of 
 how much they must have favoured him, to have 
 won such gratitude towards them ; whereas there 
 is such an abnegation of vanity in a poor devil's 
 decrying women, it is such a proof positive that 
 they never distinguished him, that I can over- 
 look it. 
 
 " People take for gospel all I say, and go 
 away continually with false impressions. Mais 
 nimporte ! it will render the statements of my
 
 352 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 future biographers more amusing; as I flatter 
 myself I shall have more than one. Indeed, the 
 more the merrier, say I. One will represent me 
 as a sort of sublime misanthrope, with moments 
 of kind feeling. This, par exemple, is my 
 favourite role. Another will portray me as a 
 modern Don Juan ; and a third (as it would be 
 hard if a votary of the Muses had less than the 
 number of the Graces for his biographers) will, it 
 is to be hoped, if only for opposition sake, repre- 
 sent me as an arqiable, ill-used gentleman, * more 
 sinned against than sinning.' Now, if I know 
 myself, I should say, that I have no character at 
 all. By the bye, this is what has long been said, 
 as I lost mine, as an Irishman would say, before I 
 had it; that is to say, my reputation was gone, 
 according to the good-natured English, before I 
 had arrived at years of discretion, which is the 
 period one is supposed to have found one. But, 
 joking apart, what I think of myself is, that I am 
 so changeable, being everything by turns and 
 nothing long, I am such a strange melange of 
 good and evil, that it would be difficult to 
 describe me. There are but two sentiments to 
 which I am constant, a strong love of liberty, 
 and a detestation of cant, and neither is calculated 
 to gain me friends. I am of a wayward, un- 
 certain disposition, more disposed to display. the 
 defects than the redeeming points in my nature ;
 
 353 
 
 this, at least, proves that I understand mankind, 
 for they are always ready to believe the evil, but 
 not the good; and there is no crime of which I 
 could accuse myself, for which they would not 
 give me implicit credit. What do you think of 
 me ?" (asked he, looking seriously in my face.) 
 
 I replied, " I look on you as a spoilt child 
 of genius, an epicycle in your own circle." At 
 which he laughed, though half disposed to be 
 angry. 
 
 " I have made as many sacrifices to liberty 
 (continued Byron) as most people of my age ; 
 and the one I am about to undertake is not the 
 least, though, probably, it will be the last ; for, 
 with my broken health, and the chances of war, 
 Greece will most likely terminate my mortal 
 career. I like Italy, its climate, its customs, and, 
 above all, its freedom from cant of every kind, 
 which is the primum mobile of England : 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. 
 
 " You will think me more superstitious than 
 ever (said Byron) when I tell you, that 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 triste existence, and I have 
 
 23
 
 354 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 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, and I may draw my last sigh, not on the 
 field of glory, but on the bed of disease. I very 
 nearly died when I was in Greece in my youth ; 
 perhaps, as things have turned out, it would have 
 been well if I had ; I should have lost nothing, 
 and the world very little, and I would have 
 escaped many cares, for God knows I have had 
 enough of one kind or another : but I am getting 
 gloomy, and looking either back or forward is 
 not calculated to enliven me. One of the reasons 
 why I quiz my friends in conversation is, that it 
 keeps me from thinking of myself: you laugh, 
 but it is true." 
 
 Byron had so unquenchable a thirst for celebrity, 
 that no means were left untried that might 
 attain it : this frequently led to his expressing 
 opinions totally at variance with his actions and 
 real sentiments, and vice versa, and made him 
 appear quite inconsistent and puerile. There was 
 no sort of celebrity that he did not, at some 
 period or other, condescend to seek, and he was 
 not over-nice in the means, provided he obtained 
 the end. This weakness it was that led him to 
 accord his society to many persons whom he 
 thought unworthy the distinction, fancying that 
 he might find a greater facility in astonishing
 
 AN INTELLECTUAL AUTOCRAT 355 
 
 them, which he had a childish propensity to do, 
 than with those who were more on an equality 
 with him. When I say persons that he thought 
 unworthy of his society, I refer only to their 
 stations in life, and not to their merits, as the 
 first was the criterion by which Byron was most 
 prone to judge them, never being able to conquer 
 the overweening prejudices in favour of aristocracy 
 that subjugated him. 
 
 He expected a deferential submission to his 
 opinions from those whom he thought he 
 honoured by admitting to his society ; and if 
 they did not seem duly impressed with a sense 
 of his condescension, as well as astonished at the 
 versatility of his powers and accomplishments, 
 he showed his dissatisfaction by assuming an air 
 of superiority, and by opposing their opinions in 
 a dictatorial tone, as if from his fiat there was 
 no appeal. If, on the contrary, they appeared 
 willing to admit his superiority in all respects, 
 he was kind, playful, and good-humoured, and 
 only showed his own sense of it by familiar 
 jokes, and attempts at hoaxing, to which he was 
 greatly addicted. 
 
 An extraordinary peculiarity in Byron was his 
 constant habit of disclaiming friendships, a habit 
 that must have been rather humiliating to those 
 who prided themselves on being considered his 
 friends. He invariably, in conversing about the
 
 356 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 persons supposed to stand in that relation to him, 
 drew a line of demarcation ; and Lord Clare,* 
 with Mr. Hobhouse and Moore, were the only 
 persons he allowed to be within its pale. Long 
 acquaintance, habitual correspondence, and re- 
 ciprocity of kind actions, which are the general 
 bonds of friendship, were not admitted by Byron 
 to be sufficient claims to the title of friend ; and 
 he seized with avidity every opportunity of 
 denying this relation with persons for whom, I 
 am persuaded, he felt the sentiment, and to whom 
 he would not have hesitated to have given all 
 proof but the name, yet who, wanting this, 
 could not consistently with delicacy receive aught 
 else. 
 
 This habit of disclaiming friendships was very 
 injudicious in Byron, as it must have wounded 
 the amour-propre of those who liked him, and 
 humiliated the pride and delicacy of all whom he 
 
 * John Fitzgibbon, second Earl of Clare, was born June 2nd, 
 1792. He was with Byron at Harrow, and is depicted in his 
 earlier poems under the name of Lycus. In the poem entitled 
 " Childish Recollections," Byron writes : 
 
 " Lycus ! on me thy claims are justly great : 
 Thy milder virtues could my muse relate, 
 To thee alone, unrivalled, would belong 
 The feeb'e efforts of my lengthened song. 
 Well canst thou boast, to lead in senates fit, 
 A Spartan firmness with Athenian wit : 
 Though yet in embryo these perfections shine, 
 Lycus, thy father's fame will soon be thine."
 
 HIS DENIAL OF FRIENDSHIP '357 
 
 had ever laid under obligations, as well as freed 
 from a sense of what was due to friendship, those 
 who, restrained by the acknowledgment of that 
 tie, might have proved themselves his zealous 
 defenders and advocates. It was his aristocratic 
 pride that prompted this ungracious conduct, and 
 I remember telling him, a propos to his denying 
 friendships, that all the persons with whom he 
 disclaimed them, must have less vanity, and more 
 kindness of nature, than fall to the lot of most 
 people, if they did not renounce the sentiment, 
 which he disdained to acknowledge, and give 
 him proofs that it no longer operated on them. 
 
 His own morbid sensitiveness did not incline 
 him to be more merciful to that of others ; it 
 seemed, on the contrary, to render him less so, 
 as if every feeling was concentrated in self alone, 
 and yet this egoist was capable of acts of 
 generosity, kindness, and pity for the unfortunate : 
 but he appeared to think, that the physical ills 
 of others were those alone which he was called 
 on to sympathize with ; their moral ailments he 
 entered not into, as he considered his own to 
 be too elevated to admit of any reciprocity with 
 those of others. 
 
 The immeasurable difference between his 
 genius and that of all others he encountered had 
 given him a false estimate of their feelings and 
 characters ; they could not, like him, embody
 
 358 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 their feelings in language that found an echo in 
 every breast, and hence he concluded they had 
 neither the depth nor refinement of his. He 
 forgot that this very power of sending forth his 
 thoughts disburdened him of much of their 
 bitterness, while others, wanting it, felt but the 
 more poignantly what is unshared and un- 
 expressed. 
 
 I have told Byron that he added ingratitude to 
 his other faults, by scoffing at and despising his 
 countrymen, who have shared all his griefs, 
 and enjoyed all his biting pleasantries ; he has 
 sounded the diapason of his own feelings, and 
 found the concord in theirs, which proves a 
 sympathy he cannot deny, and ought not to 
 mock : he says, that he values not their applause 
 or sympathy ; that he who describes passions and 
 crimes, touches chords which vibrate in every 
 breast, not that either pity or interest is felt for 
 him who submits to this moral anatomy ; but 
 that each discovers the symptoms of his own 
 malady and feels and thinks only of self, while 
 analyzing the griefs or pleasures of another. 
 
 When Byron had been one day repeating to 
 me some epigrams and lampoons, in which many 
 of his friends were treated with great severity, 
 I observed that, in case he died, and that these 
 proofs of friendship came before the public, what 
 would be the feelings of those so severely dealt
 
 A NOVEL CONSOLATION 359 
 
 by, and who previously had indulged the 
 agreeable illusion of being high in his good 
 graces ! 
 
 " That (said Byron) is precisely one of the 
 ideas which most amuses me. I often fancy the 
 rage and humiliation of my quondam friends at 
 hearing the truth (at least from me) for the first 
 time, and when I am beyond the reach of their 
 malice. Each individual will enjoy the sarcasms 
 against his friends, but that will not console 
 him for those against himself. Knowing the 
 affectionate dispositions of my soi-disant friends, 
 and the mortal chagrin my death would occasion 
 them, I have written my thoughts of each, purely 
 as a consolation for them in case they survive 
 me. Surely this is philanthropic, for a more 
 effectual means of destroying all regret for the 
 dead could hardly be found than discovering, 
 after their decease, memorials in which the 
 surviving friends were treated with more sincerity 
 than flattery. 
 
 " What grief (continued Byron, laughing while 
 he spoke) could resist the charges of ugliness, 
 dulness, or any of the thousand nameless defects, 
 personal or mental, to which flesh is heir, coming 
 from one ostentatiously loved, lamented \ and departed, 
 and when reprisals or recantations are impossible ! 
 Tears would soon be dried, lamentations and 
 eulogiums changed to reproaches, and many
 
 360 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 faults would be discovered in the dear departed 
 that had previously escaped detection. If half 
 the observations (said Byron) which friends make 
 on each other were written down instead of being 
 said, how few would remain on terms of friend- 
 ship ! People are in such daily habits of com- 
 menting on the defects of friends, that they are 
 unconscious of the unkindness of it ; which only 
 comes home to their business and bosoms when 
 they discover that they have been so treated, 
 which proves that self is the only medium for 
 feeling or judging of, or for, others. Now I 
 'write down, as well as speak, my sentiments of 
 those who believe that they have gulled me ; 
 and I only wish (in case I die before them) that 
 I could return to witness the effect my posthu- 
 mous opinions of them are likely to produce on 
 their minds. What good fun this would be ! 
 
 ' Is it not disinterested in me to lay up this 
 source of consolation for my friends, whose grief 
 for my loss might otherwise be too acute ? You 
 don't seem to value it as you ought (continued 
 Byron, with one of his sardonic smiles, seeing 
 that I looked, as I really felt, surprised at his 
 avowed insincerity). I feel the same pleasure 
 in anticipating the rage and mortification of my 
 soi-disant friends, at the discovery of my real 
 sentiments of them, that a miser may be supposed 
 to feel while making a will that is to disappoint
 
 PRESENTIMENTS OF DANGER 361 
 
 all the expectants who have been toadying him 
 for years. Then only think how amusing it will 
 be, to compare my posthumous with my pre- 
 viously given opinions, one throwing ridicule on 
 the other. This will be delicious, (said he, 
 rubbing his hands,) and the very anticipation of 
 it charms me. Now this, by your grave face, 
 you are disposed to call very wicked, nay, more, 
 very mean ; but wicked or mean, or both united, 
 it is human nature, or at least my nature." 
 
 Should various poems of Byron that I have 
 seen ever meet the public eye, and this is by no 
 means unlikely, they will furnish a better criterion 
 for judging his real sentiments than all the notices 
 of him that have yet appeared. 
 
 Each day that brought Byron nearer to the 
 period fixed on for his departure for Greece 
 seemed to render him still more reluctant to 
 undertake it. He frequently expressed a wish to 
 return to England, if only for a few weeks, before 
 he embarked, and yet had not firmness of purpose 
 sufficient to carry his wish into effect. There 
 was a helplessness about Byron, a sort of abandon- 
 ment of himself to his destiny, as he called it, 
 that commonplace people can as little pity as 
 understand. His purposes in visiting England, 
 previous to Greece, were vague and undefined, 
 even to himself; but from various observations 
 that he let fall, I imagined that he hoped to
 
 362 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 establish something like an amicable under- 
 standing, or correspondence, with Lady Byron, 
 and to see his child, which last desire had become 
 a fixed one in his mind. He so often turned 
 with a yearning heart to his wish of going to 
 England before Greece, that we asked him why, 
 being a free agent, he did not go. The question 
 seemed to embarrass him. He stammered, 
 blushed, and said, 
 
 " Why, true, there is no reason why I should 
 not go ; but yet I want resolution to encounter 
 all the disagreeable circumstances which might, 
 and most probably would, greet my arrival in 
 England. The host of foes that now slumber, 
 because they believe me out of their reach, and 
 that their stings cannot touch me, would soon 
 awake with renewed energies to assail and blacken 
 me. The press, that powerful engine of a 
 licentious age, (an engine known only in civilized 
 England as an invader of the privacy of domestic 
 life,) would pour forth all its venom against me, 
 ridiculing my person, misinterpreting my motives, 
 and misrepresenting my actions. I can mock at 
 all these attacks when the sea divides me from 
 them, but on the spot, and reading the effect of 
 each libel in the alarmed faces of my selfishly- 
 sensitive friends, whose common attentions, under 
 such circumstances, seem to demand gratitude for 
 the personal risk of abuse incurred by a contact
 
 HIS WISH TO SEE ADA 363 
 
 with the attacked delinquent, No, this I could 
 not stand, because I once endured it, and never 
 have forgotten what I felt under the infliction. 
 
 " I wish to see Lady Byron and my child, 
 because I firmly believe I shall never return 
 from Greece, and I anxiously desire to forgive, 
 and be forgiven, by the former, and to embrace 
 Ada. It is more than probable (continued Byron) 
 that the same amiable consistency, to call it by 
 no harsher name, which has hitherto influenced 
 Lady B.'s adherence to the line she had adopted, 
 of refusing all explanation, or attempt at recon- 
 ciliation, would still operate on her conduct. My 
 letters would be returned unopened, my daughter 
 would be prevented from seeing me, and any step 
 I might, from affection, be forced to take to assert 
 my right of seeing her once more before I left 
 England, would be misrepresented as an act of 
 the most barbarous tyranny and persecution to- 
 wards the mother and the child ; and I should 
 be driven again from the British shore, more 
 vilified, and with even greater ignominy, than on 
 the separation. 
 
 " Such is my idea of the justice of public 
 opinion in England, (continued Byron,) and, with 
 such woeful experience as I have had, can you 
 wonder that I dare not encounter the annoyances 
 I have detailed ? But if I live, and return from 
 Greece with something better and higher than
 
 364 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 the reputation or glory of a poet, opinions may 
 change, as the successful are always judged favour- 
 ably of in our country ; my laurels may cover my 
 faults better than the bays have done, and give a 
 totally different reading to my thoughts, words, 
 and deeds." 
 
 With such various powers of pleasing as rarely 
 fall to the lot of man, Byron possessed the 
 counterbalance to an extraordinary degree, as he 
 could disenchant his admirers almost as quickly 
 as he had won their admiration. He was too 
 observant not to discover, at a glance, the falling 
 off in the admiration of those around him, and 
 resented as an injury the decrease in their esteem, 
 which a little consideration for their feelings, and 
 some restraint in the expression of his own, would 
 have prevented. Sensitive, jealous, and exigent 
 himself, he had no sympathy or forbearance for 
 those weaknesses in others. He claimed admira- 
 tion not only for his genius, but for his defects, 
 as a sort of right that appertained solely to him. 
 He was conscious of this faiblesse^ but wanted 
 either power or inclination to correct it, and was 
 deeply offended if others appeared to have made 
 the discovery. 
 
 There was a sort of mental reservation in 
 Byron's intercourse with those with whom he 
 was on habits of intimacy that he had not tact 
 enough to conceal, and which was more offensive
 
 UNDESIRABLE CONFIDENCES 365 
 
 when the natural flippancy of his manner was 
 taken into consideration. His incontinence of 
 speech on subjects of a personal nature, and with 
 regard to the defects of friends, rendered this 
 display of reserve on other points still more 
 offensive ; as, after having disclosed secrets which 
 left him, and some of those whom he professed 
 to like, at the mercy of the discretion of the 
 person confided in, he would absolve him from 
 the best motive for secrecy that of implied 
 confidence by disclaiming any sentiment of 
 friendship for those so trusted. 
 
 It was as though he said : I think aloud, and 
 you hear my thoughts ; but I have no feeling 
 of friendship towards you, though you might 
 imagine I have, from the confidence I repose. 
 Do not deceive yourself; few, if any, are worthy 
 of my friendship : and only one or two possess 
 even a portion of it. I think not of you but as 
 the first recipient for the disclosures that I have 
 le besom to make, and as an admirer whom I can 
 make administer to my vanity, by exciting in 
 turn surprise, wonder, and admiration ; but I can 
 have no sympathy with you. 
 
 Byron, in all his intercourse with acquaintances, 
 proved that he wanted the simplicity and good 
 faith of uncivilized life, without having acquired 
 the tact and fine perception that throws a veil 
 over the artificial coldness and selfishness of
 
 366 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 refined civilization, which must be concealed to 
 be rendered endurable. To keep alive sympathy, 
 there must be a reciprocity of feelings ; and this 
 Byron did not, or would not, understand. It was 
 the want of this, or rather the studied display of 
 the want, that deprived him of the affection that 
 would otherwise have been unreservedly accorded 
 to him, and which he had so many qualities 
 calculated to call forth. 
 
 Those who have known Byron only in the 
 turmoil and feverish excitement of a London life, 
 may not have had time or opportunity to be 
 struck with this defect in his nature ; or, if they 
 observed it, might naturally attribute it to the 
 artificial state of society in London, which more 
 or less affects all its members ; but when he was 
 seen in the isolation of a foreign land, with few 
 acquaintances, and fewer friends, to make demands 
 either on his time or sympathy, this extreme 
 egoism became strikingly visible, and repelled the 
 affection that must otherwise have replaced the 
 admiration to which he never failed to give 
 birth. 
 
 Byron had thought long and profoundly on 
 man and his vices, natural and acquired; he 
 generalized and condemned en masse, in theory; 
 while, in practice, he was ready to allow the 
 exceptions to his general rule. He had com- 
 menced his travels ere yet age or experience had
 
 PAST AND FUTURE 367 
 
 rendered him capable of forming a just estimate 
 of the civilized world he had left, or the un- 
 civilized one he was exploring : hence he saw 
 both through a false medium, and observed not 
 that their advantages and disadvantages were 
 counterbalanced. Byron wished for that Utopian 
 state of perfection which experience teaches us it 
 is impossible to attain, the simplicity and good 
 faith of savage life, with the refinement and 
 intelligence of civilization. 
 
 Naturally of a melancholy temperament, his 
 travels in Greece were eminently calculated to 
 give a still more sombre tint to his mind, and 
 tracing at each step the marks of degradation 
 which had followed a state of civilization still 
 more luxurious than that he had left ; and sur- 
 rounded with the fragments of arts that we can 
 but imperfectly copy, and ruins whose original 
 beauty we can never hope to emulate, he grew 
 into a contempt of the actual state of things, and 
 lived but in dreams of the past, or aspirations for 
 the future. This state of mind, as unnatural as it 
 is uncommon in a young man, destroyed the 
 bonds of sympathy between him and those of 
 his own age, without creating any with those of 
 a more advanced. 
 
 With the young he could not sympathize, 
 because they felt not like him ; and with the 
 old, because that, though their reasonings and
 
 3 68 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 reflections arrived at the same conclusions, they 
 had not journeyed by the same road. They had 
 travelled by the beaten one of experience, but he 
 had abridged the road, having been hurried over 
 it by the passions which were still unexhausted, 
 and ready to go in search of new discoveries. 
 The wisdom thus prematurely acquired by Byron 
 being the forced fruit of circumstances and travail 
 acting on an excitable mind, instead of being the 
 natural production ripened by time, was, like 
 all precocious advantages, of comparatively little 
 utility ; it influenced his words more than his 
 deeds, and wanted that patience and forbearance 
 towards the transgressions of others that is best 
 acquired by having suffered from and repented 
 our own. 
 
 It would be a curious speculation to reflect 
 how far the mind of Byron might have been 
 differently operated on, had he, instead of going 
 to Greece in his early youth, spent the same 
 period beneath the genial climate, and surrounded 
 by the luxuries of Italy. We should then, most 
 probably, have had a " Don Juan " of a less repre- 
 hensible character, and more excusable from the 
 youth of its author, followed, in natural succes- 
 sion, by atoning works produced by the autumnal 
 sun of maturity, and the mellowing touches of 
 experience, instead of his turning from the more 
 elevated tone of" Childe Harold " to "Don Juan."
 
 DEAD SEA FRUIT 369 
 
 Each year, had life been spared him, would 
 have corrected the false wisdom that had been 
 the bane of Byron, and which, like the fruit so 
 eloquently described by himself as growing on 
 the banks of the Dead Sea, that was lovely to 
 the eye, but turned to ashes when tasted, was 
 productive only of disappointment to him, because 
 he mistook it for the real fruit its appearance 
 resembled, and found only bitterness in its taste. 
 
 There was that in Byron which would have 
 yet nobly redeemed the errors of his youth, and 
 the misuse of his genius, had length of years been 
 granted him ; and. while lamenting his premature 
 death, our regret is rendered the more poignant 
 by the reflection, that we are deprived of works 
 which, tempered by an understanding arrived at 
 its meridian, would have had all the genius, with- 
 out the immorality of his more youthful produc- 
 tions, which, notwithstanding their defects, have 
 formed an epoch in the literature of his country. 
 
 2 4
 
 INDEX 
 
 BLESSINGTOX, MARGUERITE, COUN- 
 TESS OF, xiii 
 
 and Count D'Orsay, xxviii 
 and the death of Lord Byron, 
 
 Ivii 
 
 as a sightseer, xxxvii 
 death of her first husband, xxv, 
 
 xxxi 
 death of her second husband, 
 
 xxvi, Ixv 
 
 her arrival in Genoa, xliii 
 her birth, xiii, xxix 
 her childhood, xiv, xxix 
 her Continental tour, xxxiv, Ivi 
 her death, xxvii, Ixviii 
 her early acquaintance with the 
 
 Earl of Bles>ington, xxv, xxxii 
 her education, xv 
 her entrance into society, xx 
 her first home, xiii, xvi, xxxviii 
 her first impression of Lord 
 
 Byron, I 
 her first marriage (to Captain 
 
 Farmer), xxiii, xxiv, xxx, lix 
 her first meeting with Byron, 
 
 xliv, i 
 her flight from her first husband, 
 
 xxiv 
 her friendship with the Due and 
 
 Duchesse de Grammont, xxviii 
 her influence over Byron, liii 
 her intellectual powers, xiv, 
 
 Ixviii 
 her journal, xxxviii, xliii, xliv, 
 
 Ix, Ixxi 
 
 her life at Gore House, Kensing- 
 ton, xxvi, Ixvi-lxix 
 her literary tastes, Ix-lxiii 
 her literary work, xxvi, xxix, 
 
 xxxii, Ixvi, Ixvii, Ixxi, 16, 17 
 
 BLESSI NGTON, LADY continued 
 her love of luxury, Ivii, Ixv 
 her parting from Byron, Ivi 
 her personal appearance, xiv, 
 
 xvi, xxiv, xxix, Ixviii 
 her place of burial, xxviii 
 her reasons for leaving Rome, 
 
 Ivii 
 her residence in London, xxiv- 
 
 xxvi, xxxii, Ixvi, Ixviii 
 her residence in Paris, xxvi, xxvii, 
 
 Ixv, Ixvii 
 her rides with Byron, xlix, 119, 
 
 182 
 her second marriage (to Lord 
 
 Blessington), xxv 
 her tomb, xxviii 
 inscriptions on her tomb, Ixxii 
 on Byron's Greek expedition, li 
 the sale of her horse Mameluke 
 
 to Byron, Ivi, 17, 49 
 BYRON, GEORGE GORDON, LORD, 
 and Americans, 124 
 and' literary women, 23 
 and plum -pudding a F Anglaise, 
 
 '3 
 
 as cicerone, 8 
 
 as a man, 224 
 
 as an author, 224 
 
 as chantre (fenfer, 301 
 
 as gourmand, 13, 14 
 
 French opinion of, xliii 
 
 his abstinence, 13, 16, 17, 43, 
 
 121 
 
 his acute powers of observation, 
 
 his admiration of Sir Walter 
 
 Scott, 53, 206, 207, 291 
 his ambitions, 139, 254 
 his amour propre, 35, 141, 208
 
 INDEX 
 
 BYROX, LORD continued 
 
 his annoyance by English tourists, 
 5, 13/98 
 
 his anonymous correspondents, 
 86, 183 
 
 his appearance on horseback, 48 
 
 his avarice, Iv, 81 
 
 his candour, xlviii, xlix, 8, 28, 
 39, 102, 170 
 
 his characteristics, 1, li, Iv, lix, 
 Ixviii, Ixix, 4, 8, 11-14, 2 . 2 7> 
 28, 30-32, 35, 36, 39, 43, 50, 
 52-54, 58-61, 63, 68, 69, 81, 
 95, no, 137, 139, 145, 171, 
 173, 184, 209, 224, 225, 239, 
 241, 258, 311, 314, 344, 346, 
 
 .355, 357,. 364 
 his comparison of himself to a 
 
 tiger, 305 
 
 his compassion, 32 
 his conversation, xlix, Ixxi, 2O, 
 
 43, 52, 134, 155, 209, 258 
 his conversations regarding Lady 
 
 Byron, 18, 19, 73-78, 94, 101, 
 
 132, 143, 286, 349, 363 
 his daughter Allegra, 62 
 his death, Ivi 
 
 his definition of beauty. 92 
 his description of Countess 
 
 Guiccioli, 57-59, loo 
 his description of Lady Blessing- 
 ton to Moore, xlviii 
 his description of Tom Moore, 
 
 106, 292 
 his detestation of cant, 12, 34, 
 
 124, 274 
 
 his discernment of character, 30 
 his dislike of his countrymen, 
 
 liv, 80, 155, 326 
 his dread of ridicule, 1 10 
 his epigrams, 238 
 his establishment at Genoa, 240 
 his expedition to Greece, 1, Iv, 
 
 16, 18, 49, 121, 287, 331, 361, 
 
 362 
 
 his fear of biographers, 50 
 his first meeting with Lady 
 
 Blessington, xlv, I 
 his first visit to the Earl and 
 
 Countess of Blessington, 6, 12 
 his flippancy, 8, 20, 52, 82 
 his fondness of flowers, 99 
 his fondness of solitude, 6l 
 his frankness, 8, n, 39, 63 
 his friends, n, 80, 136, 152, 247, 
 
 . 355- 359 
 his generosity, 1, 32, 39, 96 
 
 BYRON, LORD continued 
 his genius, 357 
 his grave, 349 
 his health, 121 
 his horsemanship, 31, 49 
 his horse's appointments, 48 
 his impulses, 30 
 his inconsistency, 39, 58, 311 
 his indifference to objects of art, 
 
 11, 39, 239 
 
 his indiscretion, 63 
 
 his interest in London gossip, 
 
 12, 32 
 
 his knowledge of English affairs, 
 
 12 
 
 his letters and manuscripts, lix 
 his letters to Lord Blessington, 
 
 12, 15, 16, 17, 18 
 his literary criticisms, 65, 188, 
 
 189, 250, 303, 319, 328, 329 
 his loquacity, 20, 63, 178 
 his love of mystification, 58, 117 
 his Memoirs, 51, 236 
 his memory, 207 
 his mother, in 
 his observations on women, 125, 
 
 162, 173, 231, 253, 269, 272, 
 
 312, 341 
 his opinion of Lord Blessington, 
 
 Ixvi 
 his opinion of Madame de Stael, 
 
 23 
 
 his opinion of marriage, 125 
 his opinion of Napoleon, 115 
 his opinion of Shakespeare, 302 
 his opinion of Thomas Campbell, 
 
 318 
 
 his parting from Lady Blessing- 
 ton, Ivi 
 
 his patriotism, liv 
 his personal appearance, 2, 3 
 his plagiarism, 113, 295, 330 
 his predilection for aristocracy, 
 
 59, 69, 82, 140, 357 
 his presentiment of death in 
 Greece, Ivi, Ivii, 289, 353, 363 
 his pride, 82, 357 
 his purchase of Lady Blessing- 
 ton's horse Mameluke, Ivi, 17 
 his reading, 113 
 his religious belief, 90 
 his residence near Genoa, 4 
 his rides with Lady Blessington, 
 
 xlix, 119, 182 
 his riding costume, 48, 49 
 his sale of his yacht to the Bless- 
 ingtons, Iv, Ivi
 
 372 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 BYRON, LORD continued 
 his scepticism, 136 
 his self-depreciation, xlix, 31, 103 
 his sensitiveness, 35, 109, 112, 
 
 122, 145, 357 
 his separation from Lady Byron, 
 
 II, 18, 19, 40, 70 78, 101, 251, 
 
 362 
 
 his shooting, 31 
 his sister, Mrs. Leigh, 19 
 his superstition, 36 
 his suspicious nature, 39, 53, 
 
 IS' 
 
 his swimming, 18, 31, 122 
 
 his sympathy with the deformed, 
 
 32 
 
 his temper, 30, 131, 182, 311 
 his treatment of Lady Byron in 
 
 his works, 19, 70, 71 
 his unhappiness, 60, 99 
 his unsuitability for ' society,' 
 
 43, 1 06, 210 
 his vanity, 20, 27, 54 
 his versatility, 95, 224 
 his verses on Lady Byron, 70, 
 
 71,72 
 
 his want of tact, 1 10 
 his want of taste, 240 
 his Will, 79 
 his wish for a portrait of Lady 
 
 Byron, 22 
 his wishes in regard to his infant 
 
 daughter, 23, 78, 350, 362 
 his works, 112-114, 138, 141, 
 
 216, 221, 239, 271, 272, 295, 
 
 302, 368 
 
 in a cider cellar, 337 
 Lady Blessington's influence over, 
 
 liii 
 
 monument to, 349 
 Mrs. Sheppard's prayer for, 86, 
 
 96, 343 
 on bores, 299 
 
 Sir Francis Burdett and, 80 
 the effect of music on, li, 38 
 
 Abbotsford, 1 
 
 Abstinence, Byron's, 13, 16, 17, 43 
 
 "Academical Questions," 213 
 
 Ada, Lady Lovelace, lix, Ix, 4, 23, 
 
 78, 348 
 
 " Adolphe," 30 
 
 " Advice to Julia," Luttrell's, 105 
 "Age of Bronze, The," 114 
 Aix, xxxviii 
 
 Albany, Countess of, 85 
 Albaro, The village of, xliv, I 
 
 Albergo della Villa, the residence of 
 Lady Blessington while in Genoa, 
 xlii, 13 
 
 Albertine de Stael, 131 
 Album, A lady's, 45 
 Alfieri, Count Vittorio, 84, 85 
 Allegra, Byron's daughter, 62 
 Alvanley, William Arden, Lord, 177 
 " Anacreon," 215 
 " Anastasius," Hope's, 64, 65 
 "Anatomy of Melancholy, The," 328 
 " Annals of the Parish," Gait's, 65 
 Anonymous letters to Byron, 86 
 Antibes, xxxix 
 Army, The British, 202 
 Augustus, A trophy of, xli 
 Autobiography, Byron's, 51, 236 
 Avarice, Byron's, Iv, 81 
 Avignon, xxxvii, xxxviii 
 
 Baillie, Joanna, Ixii 
 
 Bankes, William, 152 
 
 " Barry Cornwall " (B. W. Procter), 
 Ixxii, 125 
 
 Beauty, Byron's definition of, 92 
 
 " Beauty of Holiness, The," 87 
 
 Benzoni, Madame, 32 
 
 Berne, xxxvii 
 
 Blessington, Earl of, xxv, xxvi, xxviii, 
 xxxii, Iv, Ixv, Ixvi, 229, 244 
 
 Bolivar, The, Byron's yacht, Iv 
 
 Bonaparte, Prince Louis Napoleon, 
 xxvi 
 
 Bonaparte, The Emperor. See " Na- 
 poleon " 
 
 Bowles, Miss, Ixii 
 
 " Bride of Abydos The," 295 
 
 Broughton, Baron. See Hobhouse, 
 Sir John 
 
 Bulwer, Ix 
 
 Burdett, Sir Francis, 80, 202 
 
 Burton's " Anatomy of Melancholy," 
 328 
 
 Byron, Ada, afterwards Lady Love- 
 lace, lix, Ix 
 
 Byron, Lady, Ix, n, 18, 19, 39, 70-78, 
 132, 143, 251, 252, 286, 349 
 
 Byron, The Hon. Augusta, who 
 married Colonel Leigh, 20 
 
 Campbell, Thomas, 202, 318 
 Cannes, xxxix 
 Canning, 202, 204 
 Cant, 12, 14, 34, 124, 274 
 Canterbury, xiv 
 
 Casa Saluzzi, Byron's residence near 
 Genoa, xliv, 4
 
 INDEX 
 
 373 
 
 Cervantes, 53 
 
 Chambourcy, xxviii 
 
 Chameleon, Byron compared to a, 
 
 95 
 
 Charity, Byron's, 1, 32, 39 
 Charlemont, Mrs., 18 
 Charles Stuart, The Young Pretender, 
 
 84 
 
 " Childe Harold," 238, 340 
 Cider Cellar, Byron in a, 337 
 Civilization in England and elsewhere, 
 
 80 
 
 Clairmont, Clara Mary Jane, 145 
 Clare, John Fitzgibbon, Earl of, 356 
 Clever People as Talkers, 43, 44 
 Clonmel, xiii, xvi, xvii 
 Colman, George (the younger), 215 
 " Com me vousressetnblez unperroquet" 
 
 340 
 
 Constant, Benjamin, 129 
 " Corinne," 28, 130, 340 
 Cornice, xli 
 "Cornwall, Barry "(B. W. Procter), 
 
 Ixxii, 125 
 
 Cosmetic, The best, 200 
 Cowley, 150 
 Cowper, Lady, 93 
 Crabbe, 321 
 Cremation, 192 
 Cribb, Tom, 338 
 Croker, John Wilson, 124 
 "Cui Bono?" The, 118 
 Cumberland, Richard, 102 
 Cupid, 184 
 Curran, John Philpott, xx, 156, 223 
 
 The Daily News, Ixvii 
 
 Death of Lord Byron, Ivi 
 
 Deffand, Madame la Marquise du, 
 
 207, 247 
 
 " Deformed Transformed," The, 112 
 De Lamartine, M., 301, 303 
 " Delphine," 28 
 Desmonds, The, xiii 
 De Stae'l. Albertine, 131 
 De Stael, Madame, lv., 23, 27, 28, 
 
 43, 47, 107, 129, 194, 295, 340 
 " Devereux," Ixi 
 Diderot, 312 
 
 Difficulty in describing Byron, 97 
 Disraeli, Benjamin, Ix 
 " Don Juan," 60, 183, 271, 340, 349 
 D'Orsay, Count, xxviii, xxxiii, xxxv, 
 
 xliv, liii, liv, lv, Iviii, lix, Ixvi, Ixvii, 
 
 Ixxi, 12, 15, 267 
 D'Orsay, Countess, Iviii 
 Drummond, Sir William, 212 
 
 Dudley, Lord, 180 
 Dwyer, Miss Anne, xv 
 
 Ellice, Rt. Hon. Edward, 5 
 
 England, Civilization in, 80 
 
 England, Morals in, 33 
 
 " English Bards and Scotch Re- 
 viewers," 10 
 
 English liking for scandal, 32 
 I English women, 46 
 
 " Entail, The," Gait's, 65, 228 
 
 Epigrams, 25, 238 
 
 Epitaphs on Lady Blessington's tomb, 
 Ixxii 
 
 Erskine, The Hon. Henry, 196, 215, 
 244 
 
 Eve and the Devil, liii 
 
 Farmer, Captain, first husband of 
 Lady Blessington, xxi, xxii, xxv, 
 xxx, lix 
 
 Farmer, Mrs., afterwards Countess of 
 Blessington. See under Blessing- 
 ton, Countess of 
 
 Fashionable life in London, 45, 47 
 
 Fashion's fools, 44 
 
 First years in Italy, Byron's, 77 
 
 Fishermen, Genoese, 55 
 
 Florence, Ivii 
 
 Flowers, Byron's fondness of, 99 
 
 Forbes, Lady Adelaide, 93 
 
 " Fourgon," Advantages of travelling 
 with a, xxxvi 
 
 Fox, Charles James, 243 
 
 " France, The Idler in," Ix 
 
 " Frankenstein," 67 
 
 French cookery, xxxv 
 
 French opinion of English tourists, 
 xxxvii 
 
 French Revolution of 1830, xxvi 
 
 Friend, An impartial, 81 
 
 Gait, John, 65, 227 
 
 Gamba, Count Pietro, 59, 114, 172 
 
 Gardiner, Lady Harriet Frances, who 
 
 married Count D'Orsay, lix 
 Generosity v. Selfishness, 14 
 Geneva, xxxvii 
 1 Genoa, xxxiv, xl, xiii, Ivii, I, 4, 8, 12, 
 
 37 
 
 I Genoese sailors and fishermen, 55 
 I "George Rose to George Byron," 82 
 Ghosts, 37 
 " Giaour, The," 272 
 Gibbon, the historian, xxxvii 
 ! Godwin, Mary Wollstonecraft (Mrs. 
 Shelley), 67
 
 374 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 Goethe's "Wilhelm Meister," 295 
 Gore House, xxvi, Ixvi, Ixvii, Ixviii, 
 
 Ixix 
 Grammont, Due and Duchesse de, 
 
 xxviii 
 
 Grant, General Sir Colquhoun, xx 
 Greece, Byron's expedition to, 1, 
 
 Iv-lvii, 49, 121, 172, 287, 353 
 Greek epigrams, 238 
 Grenoble, xxxvii 
 Grenville, Lord, 202 
 Grey, Earl, 47, 202 
 Guiccioli, The Countess, liii, Iv, 58, 
 
 59,6o, 77, 79,83-100, 183 
 Guiche, Due de, xxxiii 
 
 Hallam, Henry, 188 
 
 Haydon, Benjamin Robert, Ixviii 
 
 Humans, Mrs., Ixii, 65 
 
 Hill, The Hon. William, 14 
 
 Hobhouse, Sir John Cam (Baron 
 
 Broughton), 69, 81, 152, 356 
 " Holiness, The Beauty of," 88 
 Holland House, xxxiii, 243 
 Holland, Lady, xxxiii, 10, II 
 Holland, Lord (Henry Richard Vas- 
 
 sall Fox), 9, 10, 202, 243 
 Hook, Theodore, Ixii 
 Hope's " Anastasius," 64 
 Hoppner, 135 
 
 Horsemanship, Byron's, 31, 48 
 Hunt, Leigh, 67, 68 
 Hutchinson, Lord, xx 
 Hypochondriasm, 193 
 
 " Idler in France, The," Ix 
 
 " Idler in Italy, The," xliv, xlviii 
 
 " Improving Society, The," 15 
 
 " Inferno, The," 256 
 
 Inscriptions on Lady Blessington's 
 
 tomb. Ixxii 
 
 " Intellect, The March of," 45 
 Ireland, Disturbances in, xix, xxvi 
 Italian characteristics, 34, 166, 167, 
 
 IoO 
 
 Italian inability to understand the 
 English, 34 
 
 Jekyll, Joseph, 155 
 Johnson, Samuel, 43, 292 
 Journal of Count D'Orsay, liv, Iv, 
 12, 15, 267 
 
 Kean, Mrs. Charles (Ellen Tree), 105 
 Keats, 65 
 
 Kinnaird, The Hon. Douglas, 190, 516 
 Knockbrit, xiii, xvi, xvii, xxix 
 
 Lake School of Poets, The, 65, 68, 248 
 Lamartine, M. de, 301-303 
 Landon, Letitia Elizabeth, Ixii 
 Landor, Walter Savage, Ixxii, 245 
 Last Will and Testament of Byron, 79 
 Lausanne, xxxvii 
 
 Lawrence, Sir Thomas, xxiv, xxxi 
 Leeds, The Duke of (half-brother to 
 
 Mrs. Leigh), 35 
 
 Legacy to Countess Guiccioli, 79 
 Leigh, Mrs. (Byron's sister), 19, 349 
 " Liberal, The," 68 
 " Life of Byron," Moore's, 18 
 Lines on hearing of Lady Byron's 
 
 illness, 70, 71, 72 
 Literary occupations, The fatigue of, 
 
 45 
 
 London society, 45-47, 188, 269, 339 
 Lovelace, Ada, lix, Ix, 4, 23, 78, 348 
 Loyal subjects, 57 
 Lucca, Ivii 
 Lucerne, xxxvii 
 Luther, Martin, 169 
 Luttrell, 104 
 " Lycus," 356 
 Lyons, xxxvii 
 Lysaght, xx 
 
 Macaulay on English morals, 33 
 Macfarlane, General Sir Robert, xx 
 Mackintosh, Sir James, 194 
 Mackintosh, Sir James and Lady, 340 
 Madden, Mr., Lady Blessington's 
 
 publisher and biographer, xxx, 
 
 xxxi, xlvi, lii, Ivii 
 " Mameluke," Lady Blessington's 
 
 horse, Iv, 17, 49 
 Maritime Alps, The, xxxix 
 Marriage, Byron's, 94 
 Marriage, Byron's opinion of, 125 
 Marryat, Captain, Ixii 
 Marsault, Baron de St., xiv 
 Marseilles, xxxix 
 Mathews, 214 
 Medicis, Catherine de, 182 
 Mediterranean, The, xxxix 
 Melbourne, Lady, 272 
 Memoirs, Byron's, 51, 236 
 Memory, 157, 256 
 Mentone, xl 
 Metternich, Prince, 180 
 Military exploits, 120 
 Mistaken identity, 85 
 Mitford, Mary Russell, Ixii 
 Monaco, xli 
 
 Montaigne, Michel de, 327, 328 
 Mont Blanc, A description of, 119
 
 INDEX 
 
 375 
 
 Montesquieu, 251 
 Montgomery, Colonel, 21, 22 
 Moore, Tom, xliii, xlvii, liii, 5, 6, 
 
 8, 45. 55, 93. 105, 164, 195, 202, 
 
 233, 292, 302, 321, 356 
 Moore's "Life of Byron," 18 
 Moore's Monody on Sheridan, 220-222 
 Morals, A lecture on, 28 
 Mules, xlii 
 
 Murray, Captain, xxi, xxii 
 Murray's Guide-books, xli 
 Music, its effect on Byron, li, 38 
 Mutual friends, 50 
 
 Naples, Iviii, lix 
 
 Napoleon, The Emperor, 26, 43, 115, 
 
 120, 179 
 
 Napoleon, Prince Louis, Ixx 
 Nervi, 42, 48 
 Nice, xxxix, xl 
 
 Orange, xxxvii 
 
 Palrnerston, Lord, Ixiii 
 
 Paris, xxvi, lix, Ixv 
 
 Parodies, 118 
 
 Pascal, 329 
 
 Pate de Perigord, The, 14 
 
 " Pelham," Ixi 
 
 Pembroke, Lord, Ixxi 
 
 Perfumes, their effect on Byron, 38 
 
 " Persius," 214 
 
 " Peveril of the Peak," 206 
 
 Plagiarism, 113, 295. 329 
 
 Pleasures of Fear, The, 164 
 
 " Pleasures of Hope, The," 318 
 
 " Pleasures of Memory, The," 319 
 
 Plum-pudding, 13 
 
 Poets, Ixii, 65, 163, 248 
 
 Poets, Drinking-cups for the, 321 
 
 Poets, The Lake School of, 65 
 
 Pope, Alexander, 215, 323 
 
 Portsmouth, John Charles, Third Earl 
 
 of, 123 
 Power, Anne, xiii, xiv, xix 
 
 Edmund, father of Lady Bless- 
 ington, xiii, xvi, xviii, xxix, 
 xxxi 
 
 Edmund, xiii, xx 
 
 Ellen, xiii, xiv, xx, xxi 
 
 Marianne, xiv, xxvi, xliv, 16 
 
 Marguerite. (See Blessington, 
 Countess of) 
 
 Michael, xiii, xiv, xxiv 
 
 Robert, xiv, xxiv 
 
 Prayer for Byron, Mrs. Sheppard's, 86 
 Pretender, The Young, 84 
 
 Procter, Bryan Waller (" Barry Corn- 
 wall "), 125 
 Purves, Sir Alexander Home, xiii, xiv 
 
 Ravenna, 83 
 
 Reading Association in Genoa, The, 
 
 15, 17 
 
 " Rejected Addresses, The," 117 
 Relative Positions of Lord and Lady 
 
 Byron, 75, 76 
 Religion, Byron's, 90 
 Richardson, Dr. Robert, 330 
 | Richardson, Samuel, and his Novels, 
 
 207 
 
 Rides with Byron, 42, 48 
 Riding Costume, Byron's, 48 
 Riviera, The, xl 
 Rocca, M., 25 
 
 Rogers, Samuel, 202, 238, 256, 321 
 Roman cookery, Ivii 
 Rome, Ivii 
 Rose, George, 82 
 Rousseau, Jean Jacques, 131 
 Russell, Lord John, Ixiii, 188 
 Russell, Lord William, xliii 
 
 St. Marsault, Baron de, xiv 
 
 " Sayings and Doings " (Theodore 
 
 Hook's), Ixii 
 
 Scandal, Liking of the English for, 32 
 Scott, Sir Walter, 1, Ix, 53, 206, 207, 
 
 214, 291 
 
 Sentimental party, A, 57 
 Shakespeare, 322 
 Shee, Archer, Iv, Ixix 
 Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft, 67 
 Shelley, Percy Bysshe, Ixi, Ixii, 37, 66, 
 
 229 
 
 Sheppard, John and Mrs., 86, 343 
 Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, 202, 
 
 217-220 
 Smith, The brothers James and 
 
 Horace, 117 
 Smith, Sydney, 195 
 Society in London, 46, 47, 269, 338 
 Southey, 244 
 Spencer, William ("The Poet of 
 
 Society"), 201, 202 
 ! Stae'l, Albertine de, 131 
 I Stae'l, Madame de, Iv, 23, 27, 28, 43, 
 
 47, 107, 129, 194, 295, 340 
 Statesmen, French and English, Ixiii 
 Stuart, Charles, 84 
 Superstition, 37 
 Suspicious nature, Byron's, 39 
 
 Talkers, Great, 43, 44
 
 376 
 
 CONVERSATIONS WITH LORD BYRON 
 
 Tennyson, xli 
 
 Thackeray, W. M., Ixvii 
 
 " The Idler in France," Ix 
 
 " The Idler in Italy," xliv 
 
 "Three Brothers, The," 113 
 
 Tierney, 202 
 
 Toulon, xxxix 
 
 Translations, 214 
 
 "Travellers along the Mediterra- 
 nean," 331 
 
 Travelling in the Nineteenth Century, 
 xxxiv 
 
 Tree, Ellen (Mrs. Charles Kean), 105 
 
 Truisms, 44 
 
 Turbia, xli 
 
 Unpartial friend, An, 81 
 
 Valence, xxxvii 
 
 Vegetables, Aristocratic and vulgar, 
 xxxvi 
 
 Venice, xliv 
 Vienna, 181 
 " Vivian Grey," Ix 
 Voltaire, 43, 207, 249 
 
 Walpole, Horace, 43 
 
 Ward, The Hon. John William (Lord 
 
 Dudley), 173, 180, 239 
 Wellington, Duke of, 105, 202, 326 
 "West Indian, The" (by Richard 
 
 Cumberland), 102 
 " Wilhelm Meister," 295 
 Wilkie's pictures, 65 
 Will of Lord Byron, 79 
 Willis, N. P., Ixviii 
 Women, 46, 162 
 Wordsworth, Ixi, 321 
 
 Young Pretender, The, 84 
 Zurich, xxxvii 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 1, for "p ofess" read "profess." 
 Page 297, for " du enfer" read " d'enfer.' 1 
 
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