diff options
Diffstat (limited to '10421-h/10421-h.htm')
| -rw-r--r-- | 10421-h/10421-h.htm | 9426 |
1 files changed, 9426 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/10421-h/10421-h.htm b/10421-h/10421-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5600129 --- /dev/null +++ b/10421-h/10421-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9426 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>The Life of Lord Byron</title> +</head> +<body> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">The Life of Lord Byron, by John Galt</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Life of Lord Byron, by John Galt + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + + + + +Title: The Life of Lord Byron + +Author: John Galt + +Release Date: December 9, 2003 [eBook #10421] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF LORD BYRON*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<p>Transcribed by David Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h1>THE LIFE OF LORD BYRON</h1> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<h2>AUTHOR’S INTRODUCTION</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>My present task is one of considerable difficulty; but I have long +had a notion that some time or another it would fall to my lot to perform +it. I approach it, therefore, without apprehension, entirely in +consequence of having determined, to my own satisfaction, the manner +in which the biography of so singular and so richly endowed a character +as that of the late Lord Byron should be treated, but still with no +small degree of diffidence; for there is a wide difference between determining +a rule for one’s self, and producing, according to that rule, +a work which shall please the public.</p> +<p>It has happened, both with regard to the man and the poet, that from +the first time his name came before the public, there has been a vehement +and continual controversy concerning him; and the chief difficulties +of the task arise out of the heat with which the adverse parties have +maintained their respective opinions. The circumstances in which +he was placed, until his accession to the title and estates of his ancestors, +were not such as to prepare a boy that would be father to a prudent +or judicious man. Nor, according to the history of his family, +was his blood without a taint of sullenness, which disqualified him +from conciliating the good opinion of those whom his innate superiority +must have often prompted him to desire for friends. He was branded, +moreover, with a personal deformity; and the grudge against Nature for +inflicting this defect not only deeply disturbed his happiness, but +so generally affected his feelings as to embitter them with a vindictive +sentiment, so strong as, at times, to exhibit the disagreeable energy +of misanthropy. This was not all. He enjoyed high rank, +and was conscious of possessing great talents; but his fortune was inadequate +to his desires, and his talents were not of an order to redeem the deficiencies +of fortune. It likewise so happened that while indulged by his +only friend, his mother, to an excess that impaired the manliness of +his character, her conduct was such as in no degree to merit the affection +which her wayward fondness inspired.</p> +<p>It is impossible to reflect on the boyhood of Byron without regret. +There is not one point in it all which could, otherwise than with pain, +have affected a young mind of sensibility. His works bear testimony, +that, while his memory retained the impressions of early youth, fresh +and unfaded, there was a gloom and shadow upon them, which proved how +little they had been really joyous.</p> +<p>The riper years of one so truly the nursling of pride, poverty, and +pain, could only be inconsistent, wild, and impassioned, even had his +temperament been moderate and well disciplined. But when it is +considered that in addition to all the awful influences of these fatalities, +for they can receive no lighter name, he possessed an imagination of +unbounded capacity—was inflamed with those indescribable feelings +which constitute, in the opinion of many, the very elements of genius—fearfully +quick in the discernment of the darker qualities of character—and +surrounded by temptation—his career ceases to surprise. +It would have been more wonderful had he proved an amiable and well-conducted +man, than the questionable and extraordinary being who has alike provoked +the malice and interested the admiration of the world.</p> +<p>Posterity, while acknowledging the eminence of his endowments, and +lamenting the habits which his unhappy circumstances induced, will regard +it as a curious phenomenon in the fortunes of the individual, that the +progress of his fame as a poet should have been so similar to his history +as a man.</p> +<p>His first attempts, though displaying both originality and power, +were received with a contemptuous disdain, as cold and repulsive as +the penury and neglect which blighted the budding of his youth. +The unjust ridicule in the review of his first poems, excited in his +spirit a discontent as inveterate as the feeling which sprung from his +deformity: it affected, more or less, all his conceptions to such a +degree that he may be said to have hated the age which had joined in +the derision, as he cherished an antipathy against those persons who +looked curiously at his foot. <i>Childe Harold</i>, the most triumphant +of his works, was produced when the world was kindliest disposed to +set a just value on his talents; and his latter productions, in which +the faults of his taste appear the broadest, were written when his errors +as a man were harshest in the public voice.</p> +<p>These allusions to the incidents of a life full of contrarieties, +and a character so strange as to be almost mysterious, sufficiently +show the difficulties of the task I have undertaken. But the course +I intend to pursue will relieve me from the necessity of entering, in +any particular manner, upon those debatable points of his personal conduct +which have been so much discussed. I shall consider him, if I +can, as his character will be estimated when contemporary surmises are +forgotten, and when the monument he has raised to himself is contemplated +for its beauty and magnificence, without suggesting recollections of +the eccentricities of the builder.</p> +<p>JOHN GALT.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Ancient Descent</i>—<i>Pedigree</i>—<i>Birth</i>—<i>Troubles +of his Mother</i>—<i>Early Education</i>—<i>Accession to +the Title</i></p> +<p>The English branch of the family of Byron came in with William the +Conqueror; and from that era they have continued to be reckoned among +the eminent families of the kingdom, under the names of Buron and Biron. +It was not until the reign of Henry II. that they began to call themselves +Byron, or de Byron.</p> +<p>Although for upwards of seven hundred years distinguished for the +extent of their possessions, it does not appear, that, before the time +of Charles I., they ranked very highly among the heroic families of +the kingdom.</p> +<p>Erneis and Ralph were the companions of the Conqueror; but antiquaries +and genealogists have not determined in what relation they stood to +each other. Erneis, who appears to have been the more considerable +personage of the two, held numerous manors in the counties of York and +Lincoln. In the Domesday Book, Ralph, the direct ancestor of the +poet, ranks high among the tenants of the Crown, in Notts and Derbyshire; +in the latter county he resided at Horestan Castle, from which he took +his title. One of the lords of Horestan was a hostage for the +payment of the ransom of Richard Cœur de Lion; and in the time +of Edward I., the possessions of his descendants were augmented by the +addition of the Manor of Rochdale, in Lancashire. On what account +this new grant was given has not been ascertained; nor is it of importance +that it should be.</p> +<p>In the wars of the three Edwards, the de Byrons appeared with some +distinction; and they were also of note in the time of Henry V. +Sir John Byron joined Henry VII. on his landing at Milford, and fought +gallantly at the battle of Bosworth, against Richard III., for which +he was afterwards appointed Constable of Nottingham Castle and Warden +of Sherwood Forest. At his death, in 1488, he was succeeded by +Sir Nicholas, his brother, who, at the marriage of Arthur, Prince of +Wales, in 1501, was made one of the Knights of the Bath.</p> +<p>Sir Nicholas died in 1540, leaving an only son, Sir John Byron, whom +Henry VIII. made Steward of Manchester and Rochdale, and Lieutenant +of the Forest of Sherwood. It was to him that, on the dissolution +of the monasteries, the church and priory of Newstead, in the county +of Nottingham, together with the manor and rectory of Papelwick, were +granted. The abbey from that period became the family seat, and +continued so until it was sold by the poet.</p> +<p>Sir John Byron left Newstead and his other possessions to John Byron, +whom Collins and other writers have called his fourth, but who was in +fact his illegitimate son. He was knighted by Queen Elizabeth +in 1579, and his eldest son, Sir Nicholas, served with distinction in +the wars of the Netherlands. When the great rebellion broke out +against Charles I., he was one of the earliest who armed in his defence. +After the battle of Edgehill, where he courageously distinguished himself, +he was made Governor of Chester, and gallantly defended that city against +the Parliamentary army. Sir John Byron, the brother and heir of +Sir Nicholas, was, at the coronation of James I., made a Knight of the +Bath. By his marriage with Anne, the eldest daughter of Sir Richard +Molyneux, he had eleven sons and a daughter. The eldest served +under his uncle in the Netherlands; and in the year 1641 was appointed +by King Charles I., Governor of the Tower of London. In this situation +he became obnoxious to the refractory spirits in the Parliament, and +was in consequence ordered by the Commons to answer at the bar of their +House certain charges which the sectaries alleged against him. +But he refused to leave his post without the king’s command; and +upon’ this the Commons applied to the Lords to join them in a +petition to the king to remove him. The Peers rejected the proposition.</p> +<p>On the 24th October, 1643, Sir John Byron was created Lord Byron +of Rochdale, in the county of Lancaster, with remainder of the title +to his brothers, and their male issue, respectively. He was also +made Field-Marshal-General of all his Majesty’s forces in Worcestershire, +Cheshire, Shropshire and North Wales: nor were these trusts and honours +unwon, for the Byrons, during the Civil War, were eminently distinguished. +At the battle of Newbury, seven of the brothers were in the field, and +all actively engaged.</p> +<p>Sir Richard, the second brother of the first lord, was knighted by +Charles I. for his conduct at the battle of Edgehill, and appointed +Governor of Appleby Castle, in Westmorland, and afterwards of Newark, +which he defended with great honour. Sir Richard, on the death +of his brother, in 1652, succeeded to the peerage, and died in 1679.</p> +<p>His eldest son, William, the third lord, married Elizabeth, the daughter +of Viscount Chaworth, of Ireland, by whom he had five sons, four of +whom died young. William, the fourth lord, his son, was Gentleman +of the Bedchamber to Prince George of Denmark, and married, for his +first wife, a daughter of the Earl of Bridgewater, who died eleven weeks +after their nuptials. His second wife was the daughter of the +Earl of Portland, by whom he had three sons, who all died before their +father. His third wife was Frances, daughter of Lord Berkley, +of Stratton, from whom the poet was descended. Her eldest son, +William, born in 1722, succeeded to the family honours on the death +of his father in 1736. He entered the naval service, and became +a lieutenant under Admiral Balchen. In the year 1763 he was made +Master of the Staghounds; and in 1765, he was sent to the Tower, and +tried before the House of Peers, for killing his relation and neighbour, +Mr Chaworth, in a duel fought at the Star and Garter Tavern, in Pall-mall.</p> +<p>This Lord William was naturally boisterous and vindictive. +It appeared in evidence that he insisted on fighting with Mr Chaworth +in the room where the quarrel commenced. They accordingly fought +without seconds by the dim light of a single candle; and, although Mr +Chaworth was the more skilful swordsman of the two, he received a mortal +wound; but he lived long enough to disclose some particulars of the +rencounter, which induced the coroner’s jury to return a verdict +of wilful murder, and Lord Byron was tried for the crime.</p> +<p>The trial took place in Westminster Hall, and the public curiosity +was so great that the Peers’ tickets of admission were publicly +sold for six guineas each. It lasted two days, and at the conclusion +he was unanimously pronounced guilty of manslaughter. On being +brought up for judgment he pleaded his privilege and was discharged. +It was to this lord that the poet succeeded, for he died without leaving +issue.</p> +<p>His brother, the grandfather of the poet, was the celebrated “Hardy +Byron”; or, as the sailors called him, “Foulweather Jack,” +whose adventures and services are too well known to require any notice +here. He married the daughter of John Trevannion, Esq., of Carhais, +in the county of Cornwall, by whom he had two sons and three daughters. +John, the eldest, and the father of the poet, was born in 1751, educated +at Westminster School, and afterwards placed in the Guards, where his +conduct became so irregular and profligate that his father, the admiral, +though a good-natured man, discarded him long before his death. +In 1778 he acquired extraordinary <i>éclat</i> by the seduction +of the Marchioness of Caermarthen, under circumstances which have few +parallels in the licentiousness of fashionable life. The meanness +with which he obliged his wretched victim to supply him with money would +have been disgraceful to the basest adulteries of the cellar or garret. +A divorce ensued, the guilty parties married; but, within two years +after, such was the brutal and vicious conduct of Captain Byron, that +the ill-fated lady died literally of a broken heart, after having given +birth to two daughters, one of whom still survives.</p> +<p>Captain Byron then married Miss Catharine Gordon, of Gight, a lady +of honourable descent, and of a respectable fortune for a Scottish heiress, +the only motive which this Don Juan had for forming the connection. +She was the mother of the poet.</p> +<p>Although the Byrons have for so many ages been among the eminent +families of the realm, they have no claim to the distinction which the +poet has set up for them as warriors in Palestine, even though he says—</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Near Ascalon’s tow’rs John of Horestan slumbers;</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>for unless this refers to the Lord of Horestan, who was one of the +hostages for the ransom of Richard I., it will not be easy to determine +to whom he alludes; and it is possible that the poet has no other authority +for this legend than the tradition which he found connected with two +groups of heads on the old panels of Newstead. Yet the account +of them is vague and conjectural, for it was not until ages after the +Crusades that the abbey came into the possession of the family; and +it is not probable that the figures referred to any transactions in +Palestine, in which the Byrons were engaged, if they were put up by +the Byrons at all. They were probably placed in their present +situation while the building was in possession of the Churchmen.</p> +<p>One of the groups, consisting of a female and two Saracens, with +eyes earnestly fixed upon her, may have been the old favourite ecclesiastical +story of Susannah and the elders; the other, which represents a Saracen +with a European female between him and a Christian soldier, is, perhaps, +an ecclesiastical allegory, descriptive of the Saracen and the Christian +warrior contending for the liberation of the Church. These sort +of allegorical stories were common among monastic ornaments, and the +famous legend of St George and the Dragon is one of them.</p> +<p>Into the domestic circumstances of Captain and Mrs Byron it would +be impertinent to institute any particular investigation. They +were exactly such as might be expected from the sins and follies of +the most profligate libertine of the age.</p> +<p>The fortune of Mrs Byron, consisting of various property, and amounting +to about £23,500, was all wasted in the space of two years; at +the end of which the unfortunate lady found herself in possession of +only £150 per annum.</p> +<p>Their means being thus exhausted she accompanied her husband in the +summer of 1786 to France, whence she returned to England at the close +of the year 1787, and on the 22nd of January, 1788, gave birth, in Holles +Street, London, to her first and only child, the poet. The name +of Gordon was added to that of his family in compliance with a condition +imposed by will on whomever should become the husband of the heiress +of Gight. The late Duke of Gordon and Colonel Duff, of Fetteresso, +were godfathers to the child.</p> +<p>In the year 1790 Mrs Byron took up her residence in Aberdeen, where +she was soon after joined by Captain Byron, with whom she lived in lodgings +in Queen Street; but their reunion was comfortless, and a separation +soon took place. Still their rupture was not final, for they occasionally +visited and drank tea with each other. The Captain also paid some +attention to the boy, and had him, on one occasion, to stay with him +for a night, when he proved so troublesome that he was sent home next +day.</p> +<p>Byron himself has said that he passed his boyhood at Marlodge, near +Aberdeen; but the statement is not correct; he visited, with his mother, +occasionally among their friends, and among other places passed some +time at Fetteresso, the seat of his godfather, Colonel Duff. In +1796, after an attack of the scarlet fever, he passed some time at Ballater, +a summer resort for health and gaiety, about forty miles up the Dee +from Aberdeen. Although the circumstances of Mrs Byron were at +this period exceedingly straitened, she received a visit from her husband, +the object of which was to extort more money; and he was so far successful, +that she contrived to borrow a sum, which enabled him to proceed to +Valenciennes, where in the following year he died, greatly to her relief +and the gratification of all who were connected with him.</p> +<p>By her advances to Captain Byron, and the expenses she incurred in +furnishing the flat of the house she occupied after his death, Mrs Byron +fell into debt to the amount of £300, the interest on which reduced +her income to £135; but, much to her credit, she contrived to +live without increasing her embarrassments until the death of her grandmother, +when she received £1122, a sum which had been set apart for the +old gentlewoman’s jointure, and which enabled her to discharge +her pecuniary obligations.</p> +<p>Notwithstanding the manner in which this unfortunate lady was treated +by her husband, she always entertained for him a strong affection insomuch +that, when the intelligence of his death arrived, her grief was loud +and vehement. She was indeed a woman of quick feelings and strong +passions; and probably it was by the strength and sincerity of her sensibility +that she retained so long the affection of her son, towards whom it +cannot be doubted that her love was unaffected. In the midst of +the neglect and penury to which she was herself subjected, she bestowed +upon him all the care, the love and watchfulness of the tenderest mother.</p> +<p>In his fifth year, on the 19th of November, 1792, she sent him to +a day-school, where she paid about five shillings a quarter, the common +rate of the respectable day-schools at that time in Scotland. +It was kept by a Mr Bowers, whom Byron has described as a dapper, spruce +person, with whom he made no progress. How long he remained with +Mr Bowers is not mentioned, but by the day-book of the school it was +at least twelve months; for on the 19th of November of the following +year there is an entry of a guinea having been paid for him.</p> +<p>From this school he was removed and placed with a Mr Ross, one of +the ministers of the city churches, and to whom he formed some attachment, +as he speaks of him with kindness, and describes him as a devout, clever +little man of mild manners, good-natured, and painstaking. His +third instructor was a serious, saturnine, kind young man, named Paterson, +the son of a shoemaker, but a good scholar and a rigid Presbyterian. +It is somewhat curious in the record which Byron has made of his early +years to observe the constant endeavour with which he, the descendant +of such a limitless pedigree and great ancestors, attempts to magnify +the condition of his mother’s circumstances.</p> +<p>Paterson attended him until he went to the grammar-school, where +his character first began to be developed; and his schoolfellows, many +of whom are alive, still recollect him as a lively, warm-hearted, and +high-spirited boy, passionate and resentful, but withal affectionate +and companionable; this, however, is an opinion given of him after he +had become celebrated; for a very different impression has unquestionably +remained among some who carry their recollections back to his childhood. +By them he has been described as a malignant imp: was often spoken of +for his pranks by the worthy housewives of the neighbourhood, as “Mrs +Byron’s crockit deevil,” and generally disliked for the +deep vindictive anger he retained against those with whom he happened +to quarrel.</p> +<p>By the death of William, the fifth lord, he succeeded to the estates +and titles in the year 1798; and in the autumn of that year, Mrs Byron, +with her son and a faithful servant of the name of Mary Gray, left Aberdeen +for Newstead. Previously to their departure, Mrs Byron sold the +furniture of her humble lodging, with the exception of her little plate +and scanty linen, which she took with her, and the whole amount of the +sale did not yield SEVENTY-FIVE POUNDS.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Moral Effects of local Scenery</i>; <i>a Peculiarity in Taste</i>—<i>Early +Love</i>—<i>Impressions and Traditions</i></p> +<p>Before I proceed to the regular narrative of the character and adventures +of Lord Byron, it seems necessary to consider the probable effects of +his residence, during his boyhood, in Scotland. It is generally +agreed, that while a schoolboy in Aberdeen, he evinced a lively spirit, +and sharpness enough to have equalled any of his schoolfellows, had +he given sufficient application. In the few reminiscences preserved +of his childhood, it is remarkable that he appears in this period, commonly +of innocence and playfulness, rarely to have evinced any symptom of +generous feeling. Silent rages, moody sullenness, and revenge +are the general characteristics of his conduct as a boy.</p> +<p>He was, undoubtedly, delicately susceptible of impressions from the +beauties of nature, for he retained recollections of the scenes which +interested his childish wonder, fresh and glowing, to his latest days; +nor have there been wanting plausible theories to ascribe the formation +of his poetical character to the contemplation of those romantic scenes. +But, whoever has attended to the influential causes of character will +reject such theories as shallow, and betraying great ignorance of human +nature. Genius of every kind belongs to some innate temperament; +it does not necessarily imply a particular bent, because that may possibly +be the effect of circumstances: but, without question, the peculiar +quality is inborn, and particular to the individual. All hear +and see much alike; but there is an undefinable though wide difference +between the ear of the musician, or the eye of the painter, compared +with the hearing and seeing organs of ordinary men; and it is in something +like that difference in which genius consists. Genius is, however, +an ingredient of mind more easily described by its effects than by its +qualities. It is as the fragrance, independent of the freshness +and complexion of the rose; as the light on the cloud; as the bloom +on the cheek of beauty, of which the possessor is unconscious until +the charm has been seen by its influence on others; it is the internal +golden flame of the opal; a something which may be abstracted from the +thing in which it appears, without changing the quality of its substance, +its form, or its affinities. I am not, therefore, disposed to +consider the idle and reckless childhood of Byron as unfavourable to +the development of his genius; but, on the contrary, inclined to think, +that the indulgence of his mother, leaving him so much to the accidents +of undisciplined impression, was calculated to cherish associations +which rendered them, in the maturity of his powers, ingredients of spell +that ruled his memory.</p> +<p>It is singular, and I am not aware it has been before noticed, that +with all his tender and impassioned apostrophes to beauty and love, +Byron has in no instance, not even in the freest passages of <i>Don +Juan</i>, associated either the one or the other with sensual images. +The extravagance of Shakespeare’s Juliet, when she speaks of Romeo +being cut after his death into stars, that all the world may be in love +with night, is flame and ecstasy compared to the icy metaphysical glitter +of Byron’s amorous allusions. The verses beginning with</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>She walks in beauty like the light<br />Of eastern climes and starry +skies,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>are a perfect example of what I have conceived of his bodiless admiration +of beauty, and objectless enthusiasm of love. The sentiment itself +is unquestionably in the highest mood of the intellectual sense of beauty; +the simile is, however, anything but such an image as the beauty of +woman would suggest. It is only the remembrance of some impression +or imagination of the loveliness of a twilight applied to an object +that awakened the same abstract general idea of beauty. The fancy +which could conceive in its passion the charms of a female to be like +the glow of the evening, or the general effect of the midnight stars, +must have been enamoured of some beautiful abstraction, rather than +aught of flesh and blood. Poets and lovers have compared the complexion +of their mistresses to the hues of the morning or of the evening, and +their eyes to the dewdrops and the stars; but it has no place in the +feelings of man to think of female charms in the sense of admiration +which the beauties of the morning or the evening awaken. It is +to make the simile the principal. Perhaps, however, it may be +as well to defer the criticism to which this peculiar characteristic +of Byron’s amatory effusions gives rise, until we shall come to +estimate his general powers as a poet. There is upon the subject +of love, no doubt, much beautiful composition. throughout his works; +but not one line in all the thousands which shows a sexual feeling of +female attraction—all is vague and passionless, save in the delicious +rhythm of the verse.</p> +<p>But these remarks, though premature as criticisms, are not uncalled +for here, even while we are speaking of a child not more than ten years +old. Before Byron had attained that age, he describes himself +as having felt the passion. Dante is said as early as nine years +old to have fallen in love with Beatrice; Alfieri, who was himself precocious +in the passion, considered such early sensibility to be an unerring +sign of a soul formed for the fine arts; and Canova used to say that +he was in love when but five years old. But these instances, however, +prove nothing. Calf-love, as it is called in the country, is common; +and in Italy it may arise earlier than in the bleak and barren regions +of Lochynagar. This movement of juvenile sentiment is not, however, +love—that strong masculine avidity, which, in its highest excitement, +is unrestrained, by the laws alike of God and man. In truth, the +feeling of this kind of love is the very reverse of the irrepressible +passion it is a mean shrinking, stealthy awe, and in no one of its symptoms, +at least in none of those which Byron describes, has it the slightest +resemblance to that bold energy which has prompted men to undertake +the most improbable adventures.</p> +<p>He was not quite eight years old, when, according to his own account, +he formed an impassioned attachment to Mary Duff; and he gives the following +account of his recollection of her, nineteen years afterwards.</p> +<p>“I have been thinking lately a good deal of Mary Duff. +How very odd that I should have been so devotedly fond of that girl, +at an age when I could neither feel passion, nor know the meaning of +the word and the effect! My mother used always to rally me about +this childish amour, and at last, many years after, when I was sixteen, +she told me one day, ‘O Byron, I have had a letter from Edinburgh, +and your old sweetheart, Mary Duff, is married to Mr C***.’ +And what was my answer? I really cannot explain or account for +my feelings at that moment, but they nearly threw me into convulsions, +and alarmed my mother so much, that after I grew better she generally +avoided the subject—to <i>me</i>—and contented herself with +telling it to all her acquaintance.” But was this agitation +the effect of natural feeling, or of something in the manner in which +his mother may have told the news? He proceeds to inquire. +“Now what could this be? I had never seen her since her +mother’s <i>faux pas</i> at Aberdeen had been the cause of her +removal to her grandmother’s at Banff. We were both the +merest children. I had, and have been, attached fifty times since +that period; yet I recollect all we said to each other, all our caresses, +her features, my restlessness, sleeplessness, my tormenting my mother’s +maid to write for me to her, which she at last did to quiet me. +Poor Nancy thought I was wild, and, as I could not write for myself, +became my secretary. I remember too our walks, and the happiness +of sitting by Mary, in the children’s apartment, at their house, +not far from the Plainstones, at Aberdeen, while her lesser sister, +Helen, played with the doll, and we sat gravely making love in our own +way.</p> +<p>“How the deuce did all this occur so early? Where could +it originate? I certainly had no sexual ideas for years afterward, +and yet my misery, my love for that girl, were so violent, that I sometimes +doubt if I have ever been really attached since. Be that as it +may, hearing of her marriage, several years afterward, was as a thunderstroke. +It nearly choked me, to the horror of my mother, and the astonishment +and almost incredulity of everybody; and it is a phenomenon in my existence, +for I was not eight years old, which has puzzled and will puzzle me +to the latest hour of it. And, lately, I know not why, the <i>recollection</i> +(<i>not</i> the attachment) has recurred as forcibly as ever: I wonder +if she can have the least remembrance of it or me, or remember pitying +her sister Helen, for not having an admirer too. How very pretty +is the perfect image of her in my memory. Her dark brown hair +and hazel eyes, her very dress—I should be quite grieved to see +her now. The reality, however beautiful, would destroy, or at +least confuse, the features of the lovely Peri, which then existed in +her, and still lives in my imagination, at the distance of more than +sixteen years.”</p> +<p>Such precocious and sympathetic affections are, as I have already +mentioned, common among children, and is something very different from +the love of riper years; but the extract is curious, and shows how truly +little and vague Byron’s experience of the passion must have been. +In his recollection of the girl, be it observed, there is no circumstance +noticed which shows, however strong the mutual sympathy, the slightest +influence of particular attraction. He recollects the colour of +her hair, the hue of her eyes, her very dress, and he remembers her +as a Peri, a spirit; nor does it appear that his sleepless restlessness, +in which the thought of her was ever uppermost, was produced by jealousy, +or doubt, or fear, or any other concomitant of the passion.</p> +<p>There is another most important circumstance in what may be called +the Aberdonian epoch of Lord Byron’s life.</p> +<p>That Byron, in his boyhood, was possessed of lively sensibilities, +is sufficiently clear; that he enjoyed the advantage of indulging his +humour and temper without restraint, is not disputable; and that his +natural temperament made him sensible, in no ordinary degree, to the +beauties of nature, is also abundantly manifest in all his productions; +but it is surprising that this admiration of the beauties of Nature +is but an ingredient in Byron’s poetry, and not its most remarkable +characteristic. Deep feelings of dissatisfaction and disappointment +are far more obvious; they constitute, indeed, the very spirit of his +works, and a spirit of such qualities is the least of all likely to +have arisen from the contemplation of magnificent Nature, or to have +been inspired by studying her storms or serenity; for dissatisfaction +and disappointment are the offspring of moral experience, and have no +natural association with the forms of external things. The habit +of associating morose sentiments with any particular kind of scenery +only shows that the sources of the sullenness arose in similar visible +circumstances. It is from these premises I would infer, that the +seeds of Byron’s misanthropic tendencies were implanted during +the “silent rages” of his childhood, and that the effect +of mountain scenery, which continued so strong upon him after he left +Scotland, producing the sentiments with which he has imbued his heroes +in the wild circumstances in which he places them, was mere reminiscence +and association. For although the sullen tone of his mind was +not fully brought out until he wrote <i>Childe Harold</i>, it is yet +evident from his <i>Hours of Idleness</i> that he was tuned to that +key before he went abroad. The dark colouring of his mind was +plainly imbibed in a mountainous region, from sombre heaths, and in +the midst of rudeness and grandeur. He had no taste for more cheerful +images, and there are neither rural objects nor villagery in the scenes +he describes, but only loneness and the solemnity of mountains.</p> +<p>To those who are acquainted with the Scottish character, it is unnecessary +to suggest how very probable it is that Mrs Byron and her associates +were addicted to the oral legends of the district and of her ancestors, +and that the early fancy of the poet was nourished with the shadowy +descriptions in the tales o’ the olden time;—at last this +is manifest, that although Byron shows little of the melancholy and +mourning of Ossian, he was yet evidently influenced by some strong bias +and congeniality of taste to brood and cogitate on topics of the same +character as those of that bard. Moreover, besides the probability +of his imagination having been early tinged with the sullen hue of the +local traditions, it is remarkable, that the longest of his juvenile +poems is an imitation of the manner of the Homer of Morven.</p> +<p>In addition to a natural temperament, kept in a state of continual +excitement, by unhappy domestic incidents, and the lurid legends of +the past, there were other causes in operation around the young poet +that could not but greatly affect the formation of his character.</p> +<p>Descended of a distinguished family, counting among its ancestors +the fated line of the Scottish kings, and reduced almost to extreme +poverty, it is highly probable, both from the violence of her temper, +and the pride of blood, that Mrs Byron would complain of the almost +mendicant condition to which she was reduced, especially so long as +there was reason to fear that her son was not likely to succeed to the +family estates and dignity. Of his father’s lineage few +traditions were perhaps preserved, compared with those of his mother’s +family; but still enough was known to impress the imagination. +Mr Moore, struck with this circumstance, has remarked, that “in +reviewing the ancestors, both near and remote, of Lord Byron, it cannot +fail to be remarked how strikingly he combined in his own nature some +of the best, and perhaps worst qualities that lie scattered through +the various characters of his predecessors.” But still it +is to his mother’s traditions of her ancestors that I would ascribe +the conception of the dark and guilty beings which he delighted to describe. +And though it may be contended that there was little in her conduct +to exalt poetical sentiment, still there was a great deal in her condition +calculated to affect and impel an impassioned disposition. I can +imagine few situations more likely to produce lasting recollections +of interest and affection, than that in which Mrs Byron, with her only +child, was placed in Aberdeen. Whatever might have been the violence +of her temper, or the improprieties of her after-life, the fond and +mournful caresses with which she used to hang over her lame and helpless +orphan, must have greatly contributed to the formation of that morbid +sensibility which became the chief characteristic of his life. +At the same time, if it did contribute to fill his days with anguish +and anxieties, it also undoubtedly assisted the development of his powers; +and I am therefore disposed to conclude, that although, with respect +to the character of the man, the time he spent in Aberdeen can only +be contemplated with pity, mingled with sorrow, still it must have been +richly fraught with incidents of inconceivable value to the genius of +the poet.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Arrival at Newstead</i>—<i>Find it in Ruins</i>—<i>The +old Lord and his Beetles</i>—<i>The Earl of Carlisle becomes the +Guardian of Byron</i>—<i>The Poet’s acute Sense of his own +deformed Foot</i>—<i>His Mother consults a Fortune-teller</i></p> +<p>Mrs Byron, on her arrival at Newstead Abbey with her son, found it +almost in a state of ruin. After the equivocal affair of the duel, +the old lord lived in absolute seclusion, detested by his tenantry, +at war with his neighbours, and deserted by all his family. He +not only suffered the abbey to fall into decay, but, as far as lay in +his power, alienated the land which should have kept it in repair, and +denuded the estate of the timber. Byron has described the conduct +of the morose peer in very strong terms:—“After his trial +he shut himself up at Newstead, and was in the habit of feeding crickets, +which were his only companions. He made them so tame that they +used to crawl over him, and, when they were too familiar, he whipped +them with a wisp of straw: at his death, it is said, they left the house +in a body.”</p> +<p>However this may have been, it is certain that Byron came to an embarrassed +inheritance, both as respected his property and the character of his +race; and, perhaps, though his genius suffered nothing by the circumstance, +it is to be regretted that he was still left under the charge of his +mother: a woman without judgment or self-command; alternately spoiling +her child by indulgence, irritating him by her self-willed obstinacy, +and, what was still worse, amusing him by her violence, and disgusting +him by fits of inebriety. Sympathy for her misfortunes would be +no sufficient apology for concealing her defects; they undoubtedly had +a material influence on her son, and her appearance was often the subject +of his childish ridicule. She was a short and corpulent person. +She rolled in her gait, and would, in her rage, sometimes endeavour +to catch him for the purpose of inflicting punishment, while he would +run round the room, mocking her menaces and mimicking her motion.</p> +<p>The greatest weakness in Lord Byron’s character was a morbid +sensibility to his lameness. He felt it with as much vexation +as if it had been inflicted ignominy. One of the most striking +passages in some memoranda which he has left of his early days, is where, +in speaking of his own sensitiveness on the subject of his deformed +foot, he described the feeling of horror and humiliation that came over +him when his mother, in one of her fits of passion, called him a “lame +brat.”</p> +<p>The sense which Byron always retained of the innocent fault in his +foot was unmanly and excessive; for it was not greatly conspicuous, +and he had a mode of walking across a room by which it was scarcely +at all perceptible. I was several days on board the same ship +with him before I happened to discover the defect; it was indeed so +well concealed, that I was in doubt whether his lameness was the effect +of a temporary accident, or a malformation, until I asked Mr Hobhouse.</p> +<p>On their arrival from Scotland, Byron was placed by his mother under +the care of an empirical pretender of the name of Lavender, at Nottingham, +who professed the cure of such cases; and that he might not lose ground +in his education, he was attended by a respectable schoolmaster, Mr +Rodgers, who read parts of Virgil and Cicero with him. Of this +gentleman he always entertained a kind remembrance. Nor was his +regard in this instance peculiar; for it may be said to have been a +distinguishing trait in his character, to recollect with affection all +who had been about him in his youth. The quack, however, was an +exception; whom (from having caused him to suffer much pain, and whose +pretensions, even young as he then was, he detected) he delighted to +expose. On one occasion, he scribbled down on a sheet of paper, +the letters of the alphabet at random, but in the form of words and +sentences, and placing them before Lavender, asked him gravely, what +language it was. “Italian,” was the reply, to the +infinite amusement of the little satirist, who burst into a triumphant +laugh at the success of his stratagem.</p> +<p>It is said that about this time the first symptom of his predilection +for rhyming showed itself. An elderly lady, a visitor to his mother, +had been indiscreet enough to give him some offence, and slights he +generally resented with more energy than they often deserved. +This venerable personage entertained a singular notion respecting the +soul, which she believed took its flight at death to the moon. +One day, after a repetition of her original contumely, he appeared before +his nurse in a violent rage, and complained vehemently of the old lady, +declaring that he could not bear the sight of her, and then he broke +out into the following doggerel, which he repeated over and over, crowing +with delight.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>In Nottingham county, there lives at Swan-green,<br />As curs’d +an old lady as ever was seen;<br />And when she does die, which I hope +will be soon,<br />She firmly believes she will go to the moon.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Mrs Byron, by the accession of her son to the family honours and +estate, received no addition to her small income; and he, being a minor, +was unable to make any settlement upon her. A representation of +her case was made to Government, and in consequence she was placed on +the pension-list for £300 a-year.</p> +<p>Byron not having received any benefit from the Nottingham quack, +was removed to London, put under the care of Dr Bailey, and placed in +the school of Dr Glennie, at Dulwich; Mrs Byron herself took a house +on Sloan Terrace. Moderation in all athletic exercises was prescribed +to the boy, but Dr Glennie had some difficulty in restraining his activity. +He was quiet enough while in the house with the Doctor, but no sooner +was he released to play, than he showed as much ambition to excel in +violent exercises as the most robust youth of the school; an ambition +common to young persons who have the misfortune to labour under bodily +defects.</p> +<p>While under the charge of Dr Glennie, he was playful, good-humoured, +and beloved by his companions; and addicted to reading history and poetry +far beyond the usual scope of his age. In these studies he showed +a predilection for the Scriptures; and certainly there are many traces +in his works which show that, whatever the laxity of his religious principles +may have been in after-life, he was not unacquainted with the records +and history of our religion.</p> +<p>During this period, Mrs Byron often indiscreetly interfered with +the course of his education; and if his classical studies were in consequence +not so effectually conducted as they might have been, his mind derived +some of its best nutriment from the loose desultory course of his reading.</p> +<p>Among the books to which the boys at Dr Glennie’s school had +access was a pamphlet containing the narrative of a shipwreck on the +coast of Arracan, filled with impressive descriptions. It had +not attracted much public attention, but it was a favourite with the +pupils, particularly with Byron, and furnished him afterwards with the +leading circumstances in the striking description of the shipwreck in +<i>Don Juan.</i></p> +<p>Although the rhymes upon the lunar lady of Notts are supposed to +have been the first twitter of his muse, he has said himself, “My +first dash into poetry was as early as 1800. It was the ebullition +of a passion for my first cousin, Margaret Parker. I was then +about twelve, she rather older, perhaps a year.” And it +is curious to remark, that in his description of this beautiful girl +there is the same lack of animal admiration which we have noticed in +all his loves; he says of her:—</p> +<p>“I do not recollect scarcely anything equal to the transparent +beauty of my cousin, or to the sweetness of her temper, during the short +period of our intimacy: she looked as if she had been made out of a +rainbow, all beauty and peace.” This is certainly poetically +expressed; but there was more true love in Pygmalion’s passion +for his statue, and in the Parisian maiden’s adoration of the +Apollo.</p> +<p>When he had been nearly two years under the tuition of Dr Glennie, +he was removed to Harrow, chiefly in consequence of his mother’s +interference with his studies, and especially by withdrawing him often +from school.</p> +<p>During the time he was under the care of Dr Glennie, he was more +amiable than at any other period of his life, a circumstance which justifies +the supposition, that, had he been left more to the discipline of that +respectable person, he would have proved a better man; for, however +much his heart afterwards became incrusted with the leprosy of selfishness, +at this period his feelings were warm and kind. Towards his nurse +he evinced uncommon affection, which he cherished as long as she lived. +He presented her with his watch, the first he possessed, and also a +full-length miniature of himself, when he was only between seven and +eight years old, representing him with a profusion of curling locks, +and in his hands a bow and arrow. The sister of this woman had +been his first nurse, and after he had left Scotland he wrote to her, +in a spirit which betokened a gentle and sincere heart, informing her +with much joy of a circumstance highly important to himself. It +was to tell her that at last he had got his foot so far restored as +to be able to put on a common boot, an event which he was sure would +give her great pleasure; to himself it is difficult to imagine any incident +which could have been more gratifying.</p> +<p>I dwell with satisfaction on these descriptions of his early dispositions; +for, although there are not wanting instances of similar warm-heartedness +in his later years, still he never formed any attachments so pure and +amiable after he went to Harrow. The change of life came over +him, and when the vegetable period of boyhood was past, the animal passions +mastered all the softer affections of his character.</p> +<p>In the summer of 1801 he accompanied his mother to Cheltenham, and +while he resided there the views of the Malvern hills recalled to his +memory his enjoyments amid the wilder scenery of Aberdeenshire. +The recollections were reimpressed on his heart and interwoven with +his strengthened feelings. But a boy gazing with emotion on the +hills at sunset, because they remind him of the mountains where he passed +his childhood, is no proof that he is already in heart and imagination +a poet. To suppose so is to mistake the materials for the building.</p> +<p>The delight of Byron in contemplating the Malvern hills, was not +because they resembled the scenery of Lochynagar, but because they awoke +trains of thought and fancy, associated with recollections of that scenery. +The poesy of the feeling lay not in the beauty of the objects, but in +the moral effect of the traditions, to which these objects served as +talismans of the memory. The scene at sunset reminded him of the +Highlands, but it was those reminiscences which similar scenes recalled, +that constituted the impulse which gave life and elevation to his reflections. +There is not more poesy in the sight of mountains than of plains; it +is the local associations that throw enchantment over all scenes, and +resemblance that awakens them, binding them to new connections: nor +does this admit of much controversy; for mountainous regions, however +favourable to musical feeling, are but little to poetical.</p> +<p>The Welsh have no eminent bard; the Swiss have no renown as poets; +nor are the mountainous regions of Greece, nor of the Apennines, celebrated +for poetry. The Highlands of Scotland, save the equivocal bastardy +of Ossian, have produced no poet of any fame, and yet mountainous countries +abound in local legends, which would seem to be at variance with this +opinion, were it not certain, though I cannot explain the cause, that +local poetry, like local language or local melody, is in proportion +to the interest it awakens among the local inhabitants, weak and ineffectual +in its influence on the sentiments of the general world. The “Rans +de Vaches,” the most celebrated of all local airs, is tame and +commonplace,—unmelodious, to all ears but those of the Swiss “forlorn +in a foreign land.”</p> +<p>While in Cheltenham, Mrs Byron consulted a fortune-teller respecting +the destinies of her son, and according to her feminine notions, she +was very cunning and guarded with the sybil, never suspecting that she +might have been previously known, and, unconscious to herself, an object +of interest to the spaewife. She endeavoured to pass herself off +as a maiden lady, and regarded it as no small testimony of the wisdom +of the oracle, that she declared her to be not only a married woman, +but the mother of a son who was lame. After such a marvellous +proof of second-sightedness, it may easily be conceived with what awe +and faith she listened to the prediction, that his life should be in +danger from poison before he was of age, and that he should be twice +married; the second time to a foreign lady. Whether it was this +same fortune-teller who foretold that he would, in his twenty-seventh +year, incur some great misfortune, is not certain; but, considering +his unhappy English marriage, and his subsequent Italian <i>liaison</i> +with the Countess Guiccioli, the marital prediction was not far from +receiving its accomplishment. The fact of his marriage taking +place in his twenty-seventh year, is at least a curious circumstance, +and has been noticed by himself with a sentiment of superstition.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Placed at Harrow</i>—<i>Progress there</i>—<i>Love +for Miss Chaworth</i>—<i>His Reading</i>—<i>Oratorical Powers</i></p> +<p>In passing from the quiet academy of Dulwich Grove to the public +school of Harrow, the change must have been great to any boy—to +Byron it was punishment; and for the first year and a half he hated +the place. In the end, however, he rose to be a leader in all +the sports and mischiefs of his schoolfellows; but it never could be +said that he was a popular boy, however much he was distinguished for +spirit and bravery; for if he was not quarrelsome, he was sometimes +vindictive. Still it could not have been to any inveterate degree; +for, undoubtedly, in his younger years, he was susceptible of warm impressions +from gentle treatment, and his obstinacy and arbitrary humour were perhaps +more the effects of unrepressed habit than of natural bias; they were +the prickles which surrounded his genius in the bud.</p> +<p>At Harrow he acquired no distinction as a student; indeed, at no +period was he remarkable for steady application. Under Dr Glennie +he had made but little progress; and it was chiefly in consequence of +his backwardness that he was removed from his academy. When placed +with Dr Drury, it was with an intimation that he had a cleverness about +him, but that his education had been neglected.</p> +<p>The early dislike which Byron felt towards the Earl of Carlisle is +abundantly well known, and he had the magnanimity to acknowledge that +it was in some respects unjust. But the antipathy was not all +on one side; nor will it be easy to parallel the conduct of the Earl +with that of any guardian. It is but justice, therefore, to Byron, +to make the public aware that the dislike began on the part of Lord +Carlisle, and originated in some distaste which he took to Mrs Byron’s +manners, and at the trouble she sometimes gave him on account of her +son.</p> +<p>Dr Drury, in his communication to Mr Moore respecting the early history +of Byron, mentions a singular circumstance as to this subject, which +we record with the more pleasure, because Byron has been blamed, and +has blamed himself, for his irreverence towards Lord Carlisle, while +it appears that the fault lay with the Earl.</p> +<p>“After some continuance at Harrow,” says Dr Drury, “and +when the powers of his mind had begun to expand, the late Lord Carlisle, +his relation, desired to see me in town. I waited on his Lordship. +His object was to inform me of Lord Byron’s expectations of property +when he came of age, which he represented as contracted, and to inquire +respecting his abilities. On the former circumstance I made no +remark; as to the latter, I replied, ‘He has talents, my Lord, +which will add lustre to his rank.’ ‘Indeed,’ +said his Lordship, with a degree of surprise, that, according to my +feelings, did not express in it all the satisfaction I expected.”</p> +<p>Lord Carlisle had, indeed, much of the Byron humour in him. +His mother was a sister of the homicidal lord, and possessed some of +the family peculiarity: she was endowed with great talent, and in her +latter days she exhibited great singularity. She wrote beautiful +verses and piquant epigrams among others, there is a poetical effusion +of her pen addressed to Mrs Greville, on her <i>Ode to Indifference</i>, +which, at the time, was much admired, and has been, with other poems +of her Ladyship’s, published in Pearch’s collection. +After moving, for a long time, as one of the most brilliant orbs in +the sphere of fashion, she suddenly retired, and like her morose brother, +shut herself up from the world. While she lived in this seclusion, +she became an object of the sportive satire of the late Mr Fox, who +characterized her as</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Carlisle, recluse in pride and rags.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>I have heard a still coarser apostrophe by the same gentleman. +It seems they had quarrelled, and on his leaving her in the drawing-room, +she called after him, that he might go about his business, for she did +not care two skips of a louse for him. On coming to the hall, +finding paper and ink on the table, he wrote two lines in answer, and +sent it up to her Ladyship, to the effect that she always spoke of what +was running in her head.</p> +<p>Byron has borne testimony to the merits of his guardian, her son, +as a tragic poet, by characterizing his publications as paper books. +It is, however, said that they nevertheless showed some talent, and +that <i>The Father’s Revenge</i>, one of the tragedies, was submitted +to the judgment of Dr Johnson, who did not despise it.</p> +<p>But to return to the progress of Byron at Harrow; it is certain that +notwithstanding the affectionate solicitude of Dr Drury to encourage +him, he never became an eminent scholar; at least, we have his own testimony +to that effect, in the fourth canto of <i>Childe Harold</i>; the lines, +however, in which that testimony stands recorded, are among the weakest +he ever penned.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> May he who will his recollections rake<br /> And +quote in classic raptures, and awake<br /> The hills +with Latin echoes: I abhorr’d<br /> Too much +to conquer, for the poet’s sake,<br /> The drill’d, +dull lesson forced down word by word,<br />In my repugnant youth with +pleasure to record.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>And, as an apology for the defect, he makes the following remarks +in a note subjoined:—</p> +<p>“I wish to express that we become tired of the task before +we can comprehend the beauty; that we learn by rote before we can get +by heart; that the freshness is worn away, and the future pleasure and +advantage deadened and destroyed by the didactic anticipation, at an +age when we can neither feel nor understand the power of compositions, +which it requires an acquaintance with life, as well as Latin and Greek, +to relish or to reason upon. For the same reason, we never can +be aware of the fulness of some of the finest passages of Shakspeare +(‘To be, or not to be,’ for instance), from the habit of +having them hammered into us at eight years old, as an exercise not +of mind but of memory; so that when we are old enough to enjoy them, +the taste is gone, and the appetite palled. In some parts of the +Continent, young persons are taught from mere common authors, and do +not read the best classics until their maturity. I certainly do +not speak on this point from any pique or aversion towards the place +of my education. I was not a slow or an idle boy; and I believe +no one could be more attached to Harrow than I have always been, and +with reason: a part of the time passed there was the happiest of my +life; and my preceptor, the Rev. Dr Joseph Drury, was the best and worthiest +friend I ever possessed; whose warnings I have remembered but too well, +though too late, when I have erred; and whose counsels I have but followed +when I have done well and wisely. If ever this imperfect record +of my feelings towards him should reach his eyes, let it remind him +of one who never thinks of him but with gratitude and veneration; of +one who would more gladly boast of having been his pupil if, by more +closely following his injunctions, he could reflect any honour upon +his instructor.”</p> +<p>Lord Byron, however, is not singular in his opinion of the inutility +of premature classical studies; and notwithstanding the able manner +in which the late Dean Vincent defended public education, we have some +notion that his reasoning upon this point will not be deemed conclusive. +Milton, says Dr Vincent, complained of the years that were wasted in +teaching the dead languages. Cowley also complained that classical +education taught words only and not things; and Addison deemed it an +inexpiable error, that boys with genius or without were all to be bred +poets indiscriminately. As far, then, as respects the education +of a poet, we should think that the names of Milton, Cowley, Addison, +and Byron would go well to settle the question; especially when it is +recollected how little Shakspeare was indebted to the study of the classics, +and that Burns knew nothing of them at all. I do not, however, +adopt the opinion as correct; neither do I think that Dean Vincent took +a right view of the subject; for, as discipline, the study of the classics +may be highly useful, at the same time, the mere hammering of Greek +and Latin into English cannot be very conducive to the refinement of +taste or the exaltation of sentiment. Nor is there either common +sense or correct logic in the following observations made on the passage +and note, quoted by the anonymous author of <i>Childe Harold’s +Monitor.</i></p> +<p>“This doctrine of antipathies, contracted by the impatience +of youth against the noblest authors of antiquity, from the circumstance +of having been made the vehicle of early instruction, is a most dangerous +doctrine indeed; since it strikes at the root, not only of all pure +taste, but of all praiseworthy industry. It would, if acted upon +(as Harold by the mention of the Continental practice of using inferior +writers in the business of tuition would seem to recommend), destroy +the great source of the intellectual vigour of our countrymen.”</p> +<p>This is, undoubtedly, assuming too much; for those who have objected +to the years “wasted” in teaching the dead languages, do +not admit that the labour of acquiring them either improves the taste +or adds to the vigour of the understanding; and, therefore, before the +soundness of the opinion of Milton, of Cowley, of Addison, and of many +other great men can be rejected, it falls on those who are of Dean Vincent’s +opinion, and that of <i>Childe Harold’s Monitor</i>, to prove +that the study of the learned languages is of so much primary importance +as they claim for it.</p> +<p>But it appears that Byron’s mind, during the early period of +his residence at Harrow, was occupied with another object than his studies, +and which may partly account for his inattention to them. He fell +in love with Mary Chaworth. “She was,” he is represented +to have said, “several years older than myself, but at my age +boys like something older than themselves, as they do younger later +in life. Our estates adjoined, but owing to the unhappy circumstances +of the feud (the affair of the fatal duel), our families, as is generally +the case with neighbours, who happen to be near relations, were never +on terms of more than common civility, scarcely those. She was +the beau ideal of all that my youthful fancy could paint of the beautiful! +and I have taken all my fables about the celestial nature of women from +the perfection my imagination created in her. I say created, for +I found her, like the rest of the sex, anything but angelic. I +returned to Harrow, after my trip to Cheltenham, more deeply enamoured +than ever, and passed the next holidays at Newstead. I now began +to fancy myself a man, and to make love in earnest. Our meetings +were stolen ones, and my letters passed through the medium of a confidant. +A gate leading from Mr Chaworth’s grounds to those of my mother, +was the place of our interviews, but the ardour was all on my side; +I was serious, she was volatile. She liked me as a younger brother, +and treated and laughed at me as a boy; she, however, gave me her picture, +and that was something to make verses upon. Had I married Miss +Chaworth, perhaps the whole tenor of my life would have been different; +she jilted me, however, but her marriage proved anything but a happy +one.” It is to this attachment that we are indebted for +the beautiful poem of <i>The Dream</i>, and the stanzas beginning</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Oh, had my fate been joined to thine!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Although this love affair a little interfered with his Greek and +Latin, his time was not passed without some attention to reading. +Until he was eighteen years old, he had never seen a review; but his +general information was so extensive on modern topics, as to induce +a suspicion that he could only have collected so much information from +reviews, as he was never seen reading, but always idle, and in mischief, +or at play. He was, however, a devourer of books; he read eating, +read in bed, read when no one else read, and had perused all sorts of +books from the time he first could spell, but had never read a review, +and knew not what the name implied.</p> +<p>It should be here noticed, that while he was at Harrow, his qualities +were rather oratorical than poetical; and if an opinion had then been +formed of the likely result of his character, the prognostication would +have led to the expectation of an orator. Altogether, his conduct +at Harrow indicated a clever, but not an extraordinary boy. He +formed a few friendships there, in which his attachment appears to have +been, in some instances, remarkable. The late Duke of Dorset was +his fag, and he was not considered a very hard taskmaster. He +certainly did not carry with him from Harrow any anticipation of that +splendid career he was destined to run as a poet.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Character at Harrow</i>—<i>Poetical Predilections</i>—<i>Byron +at Cambridge</i>—<i>His</i> “<i>Hours of Idleness</i>”</p> +<p>In reconsidering the four years which Byron spent at Harrow, while +we can clearly trace the development of the sensibilities of his character, +and an increased tension of his susceptibility, by which impressions +became more acute and delicate, it seems impossible not to perceive +by the records which he has himself left of his feelings, that something +morbid was induced upon them. Had he not afterwards so magnificently +distinguished himself as a poet, it is not probable that he would have +been recollected by his schoolfellows as having been in any respect +different from the common herd. His activity and spirit, in their +controversies and quarrels, were but the outbreakings of that temperament +which the discipline of riper years, and the natural awe of the world, +afterward reduced into his hereditary cast of character, in which so +much of sullenness and misanthropy was exhibited. I cannot, however, +think that there was anything either in the nature of his pastimes, +or his studies, unfavourable to the formation of the poetical character. +His amusements were active; his reading, though without method, was +yet congenial to his impassioned imagination; and the phantom of an +enthusiastic attachment, of which Miss Chaworth was not the only object +(for it was altogether intellectual, and shared with others), were circumstances +calculated to open various sources of reflection, and to concentrate +the elements of an energetic and original mind.</p> +<p>But it is no easy matter to sketch what may have been the outline +of a young poet’s education. The supposition that poets +must be dreamers, because there is often much dreaminess in poesy, is +a mere hypothesis. Of all the professors of metaphysical discernment, +poets require the finest tact; and contemplation is with them a sign +of inward abstract reflection, more than of any process of mind by which +resemblance is traced, and associations awakened. There is no +account of any great poet, whose genius was of that dreamy cartilaginous +kind, which hath its being in haze, and draws its nourishment from lights +and shadows; which ponders over the mysteries of trees, and interprets +the oracles of babbling waters. They have all been men—worldly +men, different only from others in reasoning more by feeling than induction. +Directed by impulse, in a greater degree than other men, poets are apt +to be betrayed into actions which make them singular, as compared by +those who are less imaginative; but the effects of earnestness should +never be confounded with the qualities of talent.</p> +<p>No greater misconception has ever been obtruded upon the world as +philosophic criticism, than the theory of poets being the offspring +of “capering lambkins and cooing doves”; for they differ +in no respect from other men of high endowment, but in the single circumstance +of the objects to which their taste is attracted. The most vigorous +poets, those who have influenced longest and are most quoted, have indeed +been all men of great shrewdness of remark, and anything but your chin-on-hand +contemplators. To adduce many instances is unnecessary. +Are there any symptoms of the gelatinous character of the effusions +of the Lakers in the compositions of Homer? The <i>London Gazette</i> +does not tell us things more like facts than the narratives of Homer, +and it often states facts that are much more like fictions than his +most poetical inventions. So much is this the case with the works +of all the higher poets, that as they recede from that worldly standard +which is found in the Epics of Homer, they sink in the scale of poets. +In what does the inferiority of Virgil, for example, consist, but in +his having hatched fancies in his contemplations which the calm mind +rejects as absurdities. Then Tasso, with his enchanted forests +and his other improbabilities; are they more than childish tales? tales, +too, not in fancy to be compared with those of that venerable dry-nurse, +Mother Bunch. Compare the poets that babble of green fields with +those who deal in the actions and passions of men, such as Shakspeare, +and it must be confessed that it is not those who have looked at external +nature who are the true poets, but those who have seen and considered +most about the business and bosom of man. It may be an advantage +that a poet should have the benefit of landscapes and storms, as children +are the better for country air and cow’s milk; but the true scene +of their manly work and business is in the populous city. Inasmuch +as Byron was a lover of solitude, he was deficient as an observer of +men.</p> +<p>The barrenest portion, as to materials for biography, in the life +of this interesting man, is the period he spent at the University of +Cambridge. Like that of most young men, it is probable the major +part of his time was passed between the metropolis and the university. +Still it was in that period he composed the different poems which make +up the little volume of <i>The Hours of Idleness</i>; a work which will +ever be regarded, more by its consequences than its importance, as of +great influence on the character and career of the poet.</p> +<p>It has been supposed, I see not how justly, that there was affectation +in the title. It is probable that Byron intended no more by it +than to imply that its contents were sketches of leisure. This +is the less doubtful, as he was at that period particularly sensitive +concerning the opinion that might be entertained of his works. +Before he made the collection, many of the pieces had been circulated, +and he had gathered opinions as to their merits with a degree of solicitude +that can only be conceived by those who were acquainted with the constantly +excited sensibility of his mind. When he did publish the collection, +nothing appeared in the style and form of the publication that indicated +any arrogance of merit. On the contrary, it was brought forward +with a degree of diffidence, which, if it did not deserve the epithet +of modesty, could incur nothing harsher than that of bashfulness. +It was printed at the obscure market-town press of Newark, was altogether +a very homely, rustic work, and no attempt was made to bespeak for it +a good name from the critics. It was truly an innocent affair +and an unpretending performance. But notwithstanding these, at +least seeming, qualities of young doubtfulness and timidity, they did +not soften the austere nature of the bleak and blighting criticism which +was then characteristic of Edinburgh.</p> +<p>A copy was somehow communicated to one of the critics in that city, +and was reviewed by him in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> in an article +replete with satire and insinuations calculated to prey upon the author’s +feelings, while the injustice of the estimate which was made of his +talent and originality, could not but be as iron in his heart. +Owing to the deep and severe impression which it left, it ought to be +preserved in every memoir which treats of the development of his genius +and character; and for this reason I insert it entire, as one of the +most influential documents perhaps in the whole extent of biography.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Criticism of the</i> “<i>Edinburgh Review</i>”</p> +<p>“The poesy of this young lord belongs to the class which neither +God nor man are said to permit. Indeed we do not recollect to +have seen a quantity of verse with so few deviations in either direction +from that exact standard. His effusions are spread over a dead +flat, and can no more get above or below the level than if they were +so much stagnant water. As an extenuation of this offence, the +noble author is peculiarly forward in pleading minority. We have +it in the title-page, and on the very back of the volume; it follows +his name like a favourite part of his style. Much stress is laid +upon it in the preface; and the poems are connected with this general +statement of his case by particular dates, substantiating the age at +which each was written. Now, the law upon the point of minority +we hold to be perfectly clear. It is a plea available only to +the defendant; no plaintiff can offer it as a supplementary ground of +action. Thus, if any suit could be brought against Lord Byron, +for the purpose of compelling him to put into court a certain quantity +of poetry, and if judgment were given against him, it is highly probable +that an exception would be taken, were he to deliver <i>for</i> <i>poetry</i> +the contents of this volume. To this he might plead <i>minority</i>; +but as he now makes voluntary tender of the article, he hath no right +to sue on that ground for the price in good current praise, should the +goods be unmarketable. This is our view of the law on the point; +and we dare to say, so will it be ruled. Perhaps, however, in +reality, all that he tells us about his youth is rather with a view +to increase our wonder, than to soften our censures. He possibly +means to say, ‘See how a minor can write! This poem was +actually composed by a young man of eighteen! and this by one of only +sixteen!’ But, alas, we all remember the poetry of Cowley +at ten, and Pope at twelve; and, so far from hearing with any degree +of surprise that very poor verses were written by a youth from his leaving +school to his leaving college inclusive, we really believe this to be +the most common of all occurrences;—that it happens in the life +of nine men in ten who are educated in England, and that the tenth man +writes better verse than Lord Byron.</p> +<p>“His other plea of privilege our author brings forward to waive +it. He certainly, however, does allude frequently to his family +and ancestors, sometimes in poetry, sometimes in notes; and while giving +up his claim on the score of rank, he takes care to remind us of Dr +Johnson’s saying, that when a nobleman appears as an author, his +merit should be handsomely acknowledged. In truth, it is this +consideration only that induces us to give Lord Byron’s poems +a place in our Review, besides our desire to counsel him, that he do +forthwith abandon poetry, and turn his talents, which are considerable, +and his opportunities, which are great, to better account.</p> +<p>“With this view we must beg leave seriously to assure him, +that the mere rhyming of the final syllable, even when accompanied by +the presence of a certain number of feet; nay, although (which does +not always happen) these feet should scan regularly, and have been all +counted upon the fingers, is not the whole art of poetry. We would +entreat him to believe that a certain portion of liveliness, somewhat +of fancy, is necessary to constitute a poem; and that a poem in the +present day, to be read, must contain at least one thought, even in +a little degree different from the ideas of former writers, or differently +expressed. We put it to his candour, whether there is anything +so deserving the name of poetry, in verses like the following, written +in 1806, and whether, if a youth of eighteen could say anything so uninteresting +to his ancestors, a youth of nineteen should publish it:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Shades of heroes, farewell! your descendant, departing<br /> From +the seat of his ancestors, bids you adieu;<br />Abroad or at home, your +remembrance imparting<br /> New courage, he’ll +think upon glory and you.</p> +<p>Though a tear dim his eye at this sad separation,<br /> ’Tis +nature, not fear, that excites his regret;<br />Far distant he goes +with the same emulation,<br /> The fame of his fathers +he ne’er can forget.</p> +<p>That fame and that memory still will he cherish,<br /> He +vows that he ne’er will disgrace your renown;<br />Like you will +he live, or like you will he perish,<br /> When decay’d, +may he mingle his dust with your own.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“Now, we positively do assert, that there is nothing better +than these stanzas in the whole compass of the noble minor’s volume.</p> +<p>“Lord Byron should also have a care of attempting what the +greatest poets have done before him, for comparisons (as he must have +had occasion to see at his writing-master’s) are odious. +Gray’s <i>Ode to Eton College</i> should really have kept out +the ten hobbling stanzas on a distant view of the village and school +at Harrow.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Where fancy yet joys to trace the resemblance<br /> Of +comrades in friendship or mischief allied,<br />How welcome to me your +ne’er-fading remembrance,<br /> Which rests in +the bosom, though hope is denied.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“In like manner, the exquisite lines of Mr Rogers, <i>On a +Tear</i>, might have warned the noble author of these premises, and +spared us a whole dozen such stanzas as the following:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Mild charity’s glow,<br /> To +us mortals below,<br />Shows the soul from barbarity clear;<br /> Compassion +will melt<br /> Where the virtue is felt.<br />And +its dew is diffused in a tear.</p> +<p> The man doom’d to sail<br /> With +the blast of the gale,<br />Through billows Atlantic to steer,<br /> As +he bends o’er the wave,<br /> Which may soon +be his grave,<br />The green sparkles bright with a tear.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“And so of instances in which former poets had failed. +Thus, we do not think Lord Byron was made for translating, during his +nonage, Adrian’s <i>Address to his Soul</i>, when Pope succeeded +indifferently in the attempt. If our readers, however, are of +another opinion, they may look at it.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Ah! gentle, fleeting, wav’ring sprite,<br /> Friend +and associate of this clay,<br /> To what unknown region +borne<br />Wilt thou now wing thy distant flight?<br /> No +more with wonted humour gay,<br /> But pallid, cheerless, +and forlorn.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“However, be this as it may, we fear his translations and imitations +are great favourities with Lord Byron. We have them of all kinds, +from Anacreon to Ossian; and, viewing them as school-exercises, they +may pass. Only, why print them after they have had their day and +served their turn? And why call the thing in p. 79 a translation, +where <i>two</i> words (θελο λεyειν) +of the original are expanded into four lines, and the other thing in +p. 81, where μεσονυκτικις +ποθ’ οραις is rendered +by means of six hobbling verses. As to his Ossian poesy, we are +not very good judges; being, in truth, so moderately skilled in that +species of composition, that we should, in all probability, be criticising +some bit of genuine Macpherson itself, were we to express our opinion +of Lord Byron’s rhapsodies. If, then, the following beginning +of a Song of Bards is by his Lordship, we venture to object to it, as +far as we can comprehend it; ‘What form rises on the roar of clouds, +whose dark ghost gleams on the red stream of tempests? His voice +rolls on the thunder; ’tis Oila, the brown chief of Otchona. +He was,’ etc. After detaining this ‘brown chief’ +some time, the bards conclude by giving him their advice to ‘raise +his fair locks’; then to ‘spread them on the arch of the +rainbow’; and to ‘smile through the tears of the storm.’ +Of this kind of thing there are no less than nine pages: and we can +so far venture an opinion in their favour, that they look very like +Macpherson; and we are positive they are pretty nearly as stupid and +tiresome.</p> +<p>“It is some sort of privilege of poets to be egotists; but +they should ‘use it as not abusing it’; and particularly +one who piques himself (though, indeed, at the ripe age of nineteen) +on being an infant bard—</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The artless Helicon I boast is youth—</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>should either not know, or should seem not to know, so much about +his own ancestry. Besides a poem, above cited, on the family-seat +of the Byrons, we have another of eleven pages on the selfsame subject, +introduced with an apology, ‘he certainly had no intention of +inserting it,’ but really ‘the particular request of some +friends,’ etc. etc. It concludes with five stanzas on himself, +‘the last and youngest of the noble line.’ There is +also a good deal about his maternal ancestors, in a poem on Lachion-y-Gair, +a mountain, where he spent part of his youth, and might have learned +that <i>pibroach</i> is not a bagpipe, any more than a duet means a +fiddle.</p> +<p>“As the author has dedicated so large a part of his volume +to immortalize his employments at school and college, we cannot possibly +dismiss it without presenting the reader with a specimen of these ingenious +effusions.</p> +<p>“In an ode, with a Greek motto, called <i>Granta</i>, we have +the following magnificent stanzas:—</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>There, in apartments small and damp,<br /> The candidate +for college prizes<br />Sits poring by the midnight lamp,<br /> Goes +late to bed, yet early rises:</p> +<p>Who reads false quantities in Seale,<br /> Or puzzles +o’er the deep triangle,<br />Depriv’d of many a wholesome +meal,<br /> In barbarous Latin doomed to wrangle.</p> +<p>Renouncing every pleasing page<br /> From authors +of historic use;<br />Preferring to the letter’d sage<br /> The +square of the hypotenuse.<br />Still harmless are these occupations,<br /> That +hurt none but the hapless student,<br />Compared with other recreations<br /> Which +bring together the imprudent.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“We are sorry to hear so bad an account of the college-psalmody, +as is contained in the following attic stanzas</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Our choir could scarcely be excused,<br /> Even +as a band of raw beginners;<br />All mercy now must be refused<br /> To +such a set of croaking sinners.</p> +<p>If David, when his toils were ended,<br /> Had heard +these blockheads sing before him,<br />To us his psalms had ne’er +descended—<br /> In furious mood he would have +tore ’em.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“But whatever judgment may be passed on the poems of this noble +minor, it seems we must take them as we find them, and be content for +they are the last we shall ever have from him. He is at best, +he says, but an intruder into the groves of Parnassus; he never lived +in a garret, like thoroughbred poets, and though he once roved a careless +mountaineer in the Highlands of Scotland, he has not of late enjoyed +this advantage. Moreover, he expects no profit from his publication; +and whether it succeeds or not, it is highly improbable, from his situation +and pursuits, that he should again condescend to become an author. +Therefore, let us take what we get and be thankful. What right +have we poor devils to be nice? We are well off to have got so +much from a man of this lord’s station, who does not live in a +garret, but has got the sway of Newstead Abbey. Again we say, +let us be thankful; and, with honest Sancho, bid God bless the giver, +nor look the gift-horse in the mouth.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The criticism is ascribed to Mr Francis Jeffrey, an eloquent member +of the Scottish bar, and who was at that time supposed to be the editor +of the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>. That it was neither just nor fair +is sufficiently evident, by the degree of care and artificial point +with which it has been drawn up. Had the poetry been as insignificant +as the critic affected to consider it, it would have argued little for +the judgment of Mr Jeffrey, to take so much pains on a work which he +considered worthless. But the world has no cause to repine at +the severity of his strictures, for they unquestionably had the effect +of kindling the indignation of Byron, and of instigating him to that +retaliation which he so spiritedly inflicted in his satire of <i>English +Bards and Scotch Reviewers.</i></p> +<p>It is amusing to compare the respective literary reputation of the +poet and the critic, as they are estimated by the public, now that the +one is dead, and the other dormant. The voice of all the age acknowledges +Byron to have been the greatest poetical genius of his time. Mr +Jeffrey, though still enjoying the renown of being a shrewd and intelligent +critic of the productions of others, has established no right to the +honour of being an original or eminent author.</p> +<p>At the time when Byron published the satire alluded to, he had obtained +no other distinction than the college reputation of being a clever, +careless, dissipated student. But his dissipation was not intense, +nor did it ever become habitual. He affected to be much more so +than he was: his pretensions were moderated by constitutional incapacity. +His health was not vigorous; and his delicacy defeated his endeavours +to show that he inherited the recklessness of his father. He affected +extravagance and eccentricity of conduct, without yielding much to the +one, or practising a great deal of the other. He was seeking notoriety; +and his attempts to obtain it gave more method to his pranks and follies +than belonged to the results of natural impulse and passion. He +evinced occasional instances of the generous spirit of youth; but there +was in them more of ostentation than of that discrimination which dignifies +kindness, and makes prodigality munificence. Nor were his attachments +towards those with whom he preferred to associate, characterised by +any nobler sentiment than self-indulgence; he was attached, more from +the pleasure he himself received in their society, than from any reciprocal +enjoyment they had with him. As he became a man of the world, +his early friends dropped from him; although it is evident, by all the +contemporary records of his feelings, that he cherished for them a kind, +and even brotherly, affection. This secession, the common effect +of the new cares, hopes, interests, and wishes, which young men feel +on entering the world, Byron regarded as something analogous to desertion; +and the notion tainted his mind, and irritated that hereditary sullenness +of humour, which constituted an ingredient so remarkable in the composition +of his more mature character.</p> +<p>An anecdote of this period, characteristic of his eccentricity, and +the means which he scrupled not to employ in indulging it, deserves +to be mentioned.</p> +<p>In repairing Newstead Abbey, a skull was found in a secret niche +of the walls. It might have been that of the monk who haunted +the house, or of one of his own ancestors, or of some victim of the +morose race. It was converted into a goblet, and used at Odin-like +orgies. Though the affair was but a whim of youth, more odious +than poetical, it caused some talk, and raised around the extravagant +host the haze of a mystery, suggesting fantasies of irreligion and horror. +The inscription on the cup is not remarkable either for point or poetry.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Start not, nor deem my spot fled;<br /> In me behold +the only skull<br />From which, unlike a living head,<br /> Whatever +flows is never dull.</p> +<p>I liv’d, I lov’d, I quaff’d like thee;<br /> I +died, but earth my bones resign:<br />Fill up—thou canst not injure +me,<br /> The worm hath fouler lips than thine.</p> +<p>Better to hold the sparkling grape<br /> Than nurse +the earth-worm’s slimy brood,<br />And circle in the goblet’s +shape<br /> The drink of gods than reptile’s +food.</p> +<p>Where once my wit perchance hath shone,<br /> In +aid of others let me shine;<br />And when, alas, our brains are gone,<br /> What +nobler substitute than wine?</p> +<p>Quaff while thou canst—another race,<br /> When +thou and thine like me are sped,<br />May rescue thee from earth’s +embrace,<br /> And rhyme and revel with the dead.</p> +<p>Why not? since through life’s little day,<br /> Our +heads such sad effects produce;<br />Redeem’d from worms and wasting +clay,<br /> This chance is theirs, to be use.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Effect of the Criticism in the</i> “<i>Edinburgh Review</i>”—“<i>English +Bards and Scotch Reviewers</i>”—<i>His Satiety</i>—<i>Intention +to Travel</i>—<i>Publishes his Satire</i>—<i>Takes his Seat +in the House of Lords</i>—<i>Departs for Lisbon</i>; <i>thence +to Gibraltar</i></p> +<p>The impression which the criticism of the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> +produced upon the juvenile poet was deep and envenomed. It stung +his heart, and prompted him to excess. But the paroxysms did not +endure long; strong volitions of revenge succeeded, and the grasps of +his mind were filled, as it were, with writhing adders. All the +world knows, that this unquenchable indignation found relief in the +composition of <i>English Bards and Scotch Reviewers</i>; a satire which, +in many passages, equals, in fervour and force, the most vigorous in +the language.</p> +<p>It was during the summer of 1808, while the poet was residing at +Newstead, that <i>English Bards and Scotch Reviewers</i> was principally +written. He bestowed more pains upon it than perhaps on any other +of his works; and, though different from them all, it still exhibits +strong indications of the misanthropy with which, after quitting Cambridge, +he became more and more possessed. It is painful to reflect, in +considering the splendid energy displayed in the poem, that the unprovoked +malice which directed him to make the satire so general, was, perhaps, +the main cause of that disposition to wither his reputation, which was +afterwards so fervently roused. He could not but expect, that, +in stigmatising with contempt and ridicule so many persons by name, +some of them would retaliate. Nor could he complain of injustice +if they did; for his attack was so wilful, that the rage of it can only +be explained by supposing he was instigated to “the one fell swoop,” +by a resentful conviction, that his impillory in the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> +had amused them all.</p> +<p>I do not conceive, that the generality of the satire can be well +extenuated; but I am not inclined to regard it as having been a very +heinous offence. The ability displayed in it is a sufficient compensation. +The beauty of the serpent’s skin appeases the aversion to its +nature. Moreover, a toothless satire is verse without poetry—the +most odious of all respectable things.</p> +<p>But, without regard to the merits or delinquency of the poem, to +the acumen of its animadversions, or to the polish of the lines, it +possesses, in the biography of the author, a value of the most interesting +kind. It was the first burst of that dark, diseased ichor, which +afterwards coloured his effusions; the overflowing suppuration of that +satiety and loathing, which rendered <i>Childe Harold</i>, in particular, +so original, incomprehensible, and antisocial; and bears testimony to +the state of his feelings at that important epoch, while he was yet +upon the threshold of the world, and was entering it with a sense of +failure and humiliation, and premature disgust. For, notwithstanding +his unnecessary expositions concerning his dissipation, it is beyond +controversy, that at no time could it be said he was a dissipated young +man. That he indulged in occasional excesses is true; but his +habits were never libertine, nor did his health or stamina permit him +to be distinguished in licentiousness. The declaration in which +he first discloses his sobriety, contains more truth than all his pretensions +to his father’s qualities. “I took my gradations in +the vices,” says he, in that remarkable confession, “with +great promptitude, but they were not to my taste; for my early passions, +though violent in the extreme, were concentrated, and hated division +or spreading abroad. I could have left or lost the whole world +with or for that which I loved; but, though my temperament was naturally +burning, I could not share in the common libertinism of the place and +time without disgust; and yet this very disgust, and my heart thrown +back upon itself, threw me into excesses perhaps more fatal than those +from which I shrunk, as fixing upon one at a time the passions, which, +spread among many, would have hurt only myself.” This is +vague and metaphysical enough; but it bears corroborative intimations, +that the impression which he early made upon me was not incorrect. +He was vain of his experiments in profligacy, but they never grew to +habitude.</p> +<p>While he was engaged in the composition of his satire, he formed +a plan of travelling; but there was a great shortcoming between the +intention and the performance. He first thought of Persia; he +afterwards resolved to sail for India; and had so far matured this project, +as to write for information to the Arabic professor at Cambridge; and +to his mother, who was not then with him at Newstead, to inquire of +a friend, who had resided in India, what things would be necessary for +the voyage. He formed his plan of travelling upon different reasons +from those which he afterward gave out, and which have been imputed +to him. He then thought that all men should in some period of +their lives travel; he had at that time no tie to prevent him; he conceived +that when he returned home he might be induced to enter into political +life, to which his having travelled would be an advantage; and he wished +to know the world by sight, and to judge of men by experience.</p> +<p>When his satire was ready for the press, he carried it with him to +London. He was then just come of age, or about to be so; and one +of his objects in this visit to the metropolis was, to take his seat +in the House of Lords before going abroad; but, in advancing to this +proud distinction, so soothing to the self-importance of youth, he was +destined to suffer a mortification which probably wounded him as deeply +as the sarcasms of the <i>Edinburgh Review</i>. Before the meeting +of Parliament, he wrote to his relation and guardian, the Earl of Carlisle, +to remind him that he should be of age at the commencement of the Session, +in the natural hope that his Lordship would make an offer to introduce +him to the House: but he was disappointed. He only received a +formal reply, acquainting him with the technical mode of proceeding, +and the etiquette to be observed on such occasions. It is therefore +not wonderful that he should have resented such treatment; and he avenged +it by those lines in his satire, for which he afterwards expressed his +regret in the third canto of <i>Childe Harold.</i></p> +<p>Deserted by his guardian at a crisis so interesting, he was prevented +for some time from taking his seat in Parliament; being obliged to procure +affidavits in proof of his grandfather’s marriage with Miss Trevannion, +which having taken place in a private chapel at Carhais, no regular +certificate of the ceremony could be produced. At length, all +the necessary evidence having been obtained, on the 13th of March, 1809, +he presented himself in the House of Lords alone—a proceeding +consonant to his character, for he was not so friendless nor unknown, +but that he might have procured some peer to have gone with him. +It, however, served to make his introduction remarkable.</p> +<p>On entering the House, he is described to have appeared abashed and +pale: he passed the woolsack without looking round, and advanced to +the table where the proper officer was attending to administer the oaths. +When he had gone through them, the chancellor quitted his seat, and +went towards him with a smile, putting out his hand in a friendly manner +to welcome him, but he made a stiff bow, and only touched with the tip +of his fingers the chancellor’s hand, who immediately returned +to his seat. Such is the account given of this important incident +by Mr Dallas, who went with him to the bar; but a characteristic circumstance +is wanting. When Lord Eldon advanced with the cordiality described, +he expressed with becoming courtesy his regret that the rules of the +House had obliged him to call for the evidence of his grandfather’s +marriage.—“Your Lordship has done your duty, and no more,” +was the cold reply, in the words of Tom Thumb, and which probably was +the cause of the marked manner of the chancellor’s cool return +to his seat.</p> +<p>The satire was published anonymously, and immediately attracted attention; +the sale was rapid, and a new edition being called for, Byron revised +it. The preparations for his travels being completed, he then +embarked in July of the same year, with Mr Hobhouse, for Lisbon, and +thence proceeded by the southern provinces of Spain to Gibraltar.</p> +<p>In the account of his adventures during this journey, he seems to +have felt, to an exaggerated degree, the hazards to which he was exposed. +But many of his descriptions are given with a bright pen. That +of Lisbon has always been admired for its justness, and the mixture +of force and familiarity.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> What beauties doth Lisboa’s port unfold!<br /> Her +image floating on that noble tide,<br /> Which poets +vainly pave with sands of gold,<br /> But now whereon +a thousand keels did ride,<br /> Of mighty strength +since Albion was allied,<br /> And to the Lusians did +her aid afford.<br /> A nation swoln with ignorance +and pride,<br /> Who lick, yet loathe, the hand that +waves the sword<br />To save them from the wrath of Gaul’s unsparing +lord.</p> +<p> But whoso entereth within this town,<br /> That +sheening for celestial seems to be,<br /> Disconsolate +will wander up and down,<br /> ’Mid many things +unsightly strange to see,<br /> For hut and palace +show like filthily;<br /> The dingy denizens are reared +in dirt;<br /> No personage of high or mean degree<br /> Doth +care for cleanness of surtout and shirt,<br />Though shent with Egypt’s +plague, unkempt, unwash’d, unhurt.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Considering the interest which he afterwards took in the affairs +of Greece, it is remarkable that he should have passed through Spain, +at the period he has described, without feeling any sympathy with the +spirit which then animated that nation. Intent, however, on his +travels, pressing onward to an unknown goal, he paused not to inquire +as to the earnestness of the patriotic zeal of the Spaniards, nor once +dreamed, even for adventure, of taking a part in their heroic cause.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>First Acquaintance with Byron</i>—<i>Embark together</i>—<i>The +Voyage</i></p> +<p>It was at Gibraltar that I first fell in with Lord Byron. I +had arrived there in the packet from England, in indifferent health, +on my way to Sicily. I had then no intention of travelling. +I only went a trip, intending to return home after spending a few weeks +in Malta, Sicily, and Sardinia; having, before my departure, entered +into the Society of Lincoln’s Inn, with the design of studying +the law.</p> +<p>At this time, my friend, the late Colonel Wright, of the artillery, +was secretary to the Governor; and during the short stay of the packet +at the Rock, he invited me to the hospitalities of his house, and among +other civilities gave me admission to the garrison library.</p> +<p>The day, I well remember, was exceedingly sultry. The air was +sickly; and if the wind was not a sirocco, it was a withering levanter—oppressive +to the functions of life, and to an invalid denying all exercise. +Instead of rambling over the fortifications, I was, in consequence, +constrained to spend the hottest part of the day in the library; and, +while sitting there, a young man came in and seated himself opposite +to me at the table where I was reading. Something in his appearance +attracted my attention. His dress indicated a Londoner of some +fashion, partly by its neatness and simplicity, with just so much of +a peculiarity of style as served to show, that although he belonged +to the order of metropolitan beaux, he was not altogether a common one.</p> +<p>I thought his face not unknown to me; I began to conjecture where +I could have seen him; and, after an unobserved scrutiny, to speculate +both as to his character and vocation. His physiognomy was prepossessing +and intelligent, but ever and anon his brows lowered and gathered; a +habit, as I then thought, with a degree of affectation in it, probably +first assumed for picturesque effect and energetic expression; but which +I afterwards discovered was undoubtedly the occasional scowl of some +unpleasant reminiscence: it was certainly disagreeable—forbidding—but +still the general cast of his features was impressed with elegance and +character.</p> +<p>At dinner, a large party assembled at Colonel Wright’s; among +others the Countess of Westmorland, with Tom Sheridan and his beautiful +wife; and it happened that Sheridan, in relating the local news of the +morning, mentioned that Lord Byron and Mr Hobhouse had come in from +Spain, and were to proceed up the Mediterranean in the packet. +He was not acquainted with either.</p> +<p>Hobhouse had, a short time before I left London,, published certain +translations and poems rather respectable in their way, and I had seen +the work, so that his name was not altogether strange to me. Byron’s +was familiar—the <i>Edinburgh Review</i> had made it so, and still +more the satire of <i>English Bards and Scotch Reviewers</i>, but I +was not conscious of having seen the persons of either.</p> +<p>On the following evening I embarked early, and soon after the two +travellers came on board; in one of whom I recognised the visitor to +the library, and he proved to be Lord Byron. In the little bustle +and process of embarking their luggage, his Lordship affected, as it +seemed to me, more aristocracy than befitted his years, or the occasion; +and I then thought of his singular scowl, and suspected him of pride +and irascibility. The impression that evening was not agreeable, +but it was interesting; and that forehead mark, the frown, was calculated +to awaken curiosity, and beget conjectures.</p> +<p>Hobhouse, with more of the commoner, made himself one of the passengers +at once; but Byron held himself aloof, and sat on the rail, leaning +on the mizzen shrouds, inhaling, as it were, poetical sympathy, from +the gloomy Rock, then dark and stern in the twilight. There was +in all about him that evening much waywardness; he spoke petulantly +to Fletcher, his valet; and was evidently ill at ease with himself, +and fretful towards others. I thought he would turn out an unsatisfactory +shipmate; yet there was something redeeming in the tones of his voice, +when, some time after he had indulged his sullen meditation, he again +addressed Fletcher; so that, instead of finding him ill-natured, I was +soon convinced he was only capricious.</p> +<p>Our passage to Sardinia was tardy, owing to calms; but, in other +respects, pleasant. About the third day Byron relented from his +rapt mood, as if he felt it was out of place, and became playful, and +disposed to contribute his fair proportion to the general endeavour +to wile away the tediousness of the dull voyage. Among other expedients +for that purpose, we had recourse to shooting at bottles. Byron, +I think, supplied the pistols, and was the best shot, but not very pre-eminently +so. In the calms, the jolly-boat was several times lowered; and, +on one of those occasions, his Lordship, with the captain, caught a +turtle—I rather think two—we likewise hooked a shark, part +of which was dressed for breakfast, and tasted, without relish; your +shark is but a cannibal dainty.</p> +<p>As we approached the gulf, or bay, of Cagliari, in Sardinia, a strong +north wind came from the shore, and we had a whole disagreeable day +of tacking, but next morning, it was Sunday, we found ourselves at anchor +near the mole, where we landed. Byron, with the captain, rode +out some distance into the country, while I walked with Mr Hobhouse +about the town: we left our cards for the consul, and Mr Hill, the ambassador, +who invited us to dinner. In the evening we landed again, to avail +ourselves of the invitation; and, on this occasion, Byron and his Pylades +dressed themselves as aides-de-camp—a circumstance which, at the +time, did not tend to improve my estimation of the solidity of the character +of either. But such is the force of habit: it appeared a less +exceptionable affectation in the young peer than in the commoner.</p> +<p>Had we parted at Cagliari, it is probable that I should have retained +a much more favourable recollection of Mr Hobhouse than of Lord Byron; +for he was a cheerful companion, full of odd and droll stories, which +he told extremely well; he was also good-humoured and intelligent—altogether +an advantageous specimen of a well-educated English gentleman. +Moreover, I was at the time afflicted with a nervous dejection, which +the occasional exhilaration produced by his anecdotes and college tales +often materially dissipated, though, for the most part, they were more +after the manner and matter of Swift than of Addison.</p> +<p>Byron was, during the passage, in delicate health, and upon an abstemious +regimen. He rarely tasted wine, nor more than half a glass, mingled +with water, when he did. He ate little; no animal food, but only +bread and vegetables. He reminded me of the ghoul that picked +rice with a needle; for it was manifest, that he had not acquired his +knowledge of the world by always dining so sparely. If my remembrance +is not treacherous, he only spent one evening in the cabin with us—the +evening before we came to anchor at Cagliari; for, when the lights were +placed, he made himself a man forbid, took his station on the railing +between the pegs on which the sheets are belayed and the shrouds, and +there, for hours, sat in silence, enamoured, it may be, of the moon. +All these peculiarities, with his caprices, and something inexplicable +in the cast of his metaphysics, while they served to awaken interest, +contributed little to conciliate esteem. He was often strangely +rapt—it may have been from his genius; and, had its grandeur and +darkness been then divulged, susceptible of explanation; but, at the +time, it threw, as it were, around him the sackcloth of penitence. +Sitting amid the shrouds and rattlins, in the tranquillity of the moonlight, +churming an inarticulate melody, he seemed almost apparitional, suggesting +dim reminiscences of him who shot the albatross. He was as a mystery +in a winding-sheet, crowned with a halo.</p> +<p>The influence of the incomprehensible phantasma which hovered about +Lord Byron has been more or less felt by all who ever approached him. +That he sometimes came out of the cloud, and was familiar and earthly, +is true; but his dwelling was amid the murk and the mist, and the home +of his spirit in the abysm of the storm, and the hiding-places of guilt. +He was, at the time of which I am speaking, scarcely two-and-twenty, +and could claim no higher praise than having written a clever worldly-minded +satire; and yet it was impossible, even then, to reflect on the bias +of his mind, as it was revealed by the casualties of conversation, without +experiencing a presentiment, that he was destined to execute some singular +and ominous purpose. The description he has given of Manfred in +his youth was of himself.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>My spirit walk’d not with the souls of men,<br />Nor look’d +upon the earth with human eyes;<br />The thirst of their ambition was +not mine;<br />The aim of their existence was not mine.<br />My joys, +my griefs, my passions, and my powers,<br />Made me a stranger. +Though I wore the form,<br />I had no sympathy with breathing flesh.<br />My +joy was in the wilderness—to breathe<br />The difficult air of +the iced mountain’s top.<br />Where the birds dare not build, +nor insect’s wing<br />Flit o’er the herbless granite; or +to plunge<br />Into the torrent, and to roll along<br />On the swift +whirl of the new-breaking wave<br />Of river, stream, or ocean, in their +flow—<br />In these my early strength exulted; or<br />To follow +through the night the moving moon,<br />The stars, and their development; +or catch<br />The dazzling lightnings till my eyes grew dim;<br />Or +to look listening on the scatter’d leaves,<br />While autumn winds +were at their evening song;—<br />These were my pastimes—and +to be alone.<br />For if the beings, of whom I was one—<br />Hating +to be so—cross’d me in my path,<br />I felt myself degraded +back to them,<br />And was all clay again.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Dinner at the Ambassador’s</i>—<i>Opera</i>—<i>Disaster +of Byron at Malta</i>—<i>Mrs Spencer Smith</i></p> +<p>I shall always remember Cagliari with particular pleasure; for it +so happened that I formed there three of the most agreeable acquaintances +of my life, and one of them was with Lord Byron; for although we had +been eight days together, I yet could not previously have accounted +myself acquainted with his Lordship.</p> +<p>After dinner, we all went to the theatre, which was that evening, +on account of some Court festival, brilliantly illuminated. The +Royal Family were present, and the opera was performed with more taste +and execution than I had expected to meet with in so remote a place, +and under the restrictions which rendered the intercourse with the Continent +then so difficult. Among other remarkable characters pointed out +to us was a nobleman in the pit, actually under the ban of outlawry +for murder. I have often wondered if the incident had any effect +on the creation of <i>Lara</i>; for we know not in what small germs +the conceptions of genius originate.</p> +<p>But the most important occurrence of that evening arose from a delicate +observance of etiquette on the part of the ambassador. After carrying +us to his box, which was close to that of the Royal Family, in order +that we might see the members of it properly, he retired with Lord Byron +to another box, an inflection of manners to propriety in the best possible +taste—for the ambassador was doubtless aware that his Lordship’s +rank would be known to the audience, and I conceive that this little +arrangement was adopted to make his person also known, by showing him +with distinction apart from the other strangers.</p> +<p>When the performance was over, Mr Hill came down with Lord Byron +to the gate of the upper town, where his Lordship, as we were taking +leave, thanked him with more elocution than was precisely requisite. +The style and formality of the speech amused Mr Hobhouse, as well as +others; and, when the minister retired, he began to rally his Lordship +on the subject. But Byron really fancied that he had acquitted +himself with grace and dignity, and took the jocularity of his friend +amiss—a little banter ensued—the poet became petulant, and +Mr Hobhouse walked on; while Byron, on account of his lameness, and +the roughness of the pavement, took hold of my arm, appealing to me, +if he could have said less, after the kind and hospitable treatment +we had all received. Of course, though I thought pretty much as +Mr Hobhouse did, I could not do otherwise than civilly assent, especially +as his Lordship’s comfort, at the moment, seemed in some degree +dependent on being confirmed in the good opinion he was desirous to +entertain of his own courtesy. From that night I evidently rose +in his good graces; and, as he was always most agreeable and interesting +when familiar, it was worth my while to advance, but by cautious circumvallations, +into his intimacy; for his uncertain temper made his favour precarious.</p> +<p>The next morning, either owing to the relaxation of his abstinence, +which he could not probably well avoid amid the good things of the ambassadorial +table; or, what was, perhaps, less questionable, some regret for his +petulance towards his friend, he was indisposed, and did not make his +appearance till late in the evening. I rather suspect, though +there was no evidence of the fact, that Hobhouse received any concession +which he may have made with indulgence; for he remarked to me, in a +tone that implied both forbearance and generosity of regard, that it +was necessary to humour him like a child. But, in whatever manner +the reconciliation was accomplished, the passengers partook of the blessings +of the peace. Byron, during the following day, as we were sailing +along the picturesque shores of Sicily, was in the highest spirits overflowing +with glee, and sparkling with quaint sentences. The champagne +was uncorked and in the finest condition.</p> +<p>Having landed the mail at Girgenti, we stretched over to Malta, where +we arrived about noon next day—all the passengers, except Orestes +and Pylades, being eager to land, went on shore with the captain. +They remained behind for a reason—which an accidental expression +of Byron let out—much to my secret amusement; for I was aware +they would be disappointed, and the anticipation was relishing. +They expected—at least he did—a salute from the batteries, +and sent ashore notice to Sir Alexander Ball, the Governor, of his arrival; +but the guns were sulky, and evinced no respect of persons; so that +late in the afternoon, about the heel of the evening, the two magnates +were obliged to come on shore, and slip into the city unnoticed and +unknown.</p> +<p>At this time Malta was in great prosperity. Her commerce was +flourishing; and the goodly clusters of its profits hung ripe and rich +at every door. The merchants were truly hospitable, and few more +so than Mr Chabot. As I had letters to him, he invited me to dinner, +along with several other friends previously engaged. In the cool +of the evening, as we were sitting at our wine, Lord Byron and Mr Hobhouse +were announced. His Lordship was in better spirits than I had +ever seen him. His appearance showed, as he entered the room, +that they had met with some adventure, and he chuckled with an inward +sense of enjoyment, not altogether without spleen—a kind of malicious +satisfaction—as his companion recounted with all becoming gravity +their woes and sufferings, as an apology for begging a bed and morsel +for the night. God forgive me! but I partook of Byron’s +levity at the idea of personages so consequential wandering destitute +in the streets, seeking for lodgings, as it were, from door to door, +and rejected at all.</p> +<p>Next day, however, they were accommodated by the Governor with an +agreeable house in the upper part of Valetta; and his Lordship, as soon +as they were domiciled, began to take lessons in Arabic from a monk—I +believe one of the librarians of the public library. His whole +time was not, however, devoted to study; for he formed an acquaintance +with Mrs Spencer Smith, the lady of the gentleman of that name, who +had been our resident minister at Constantinople: he affected a passion +for her; but it was only Platonic. She, however, beguiled him +of his valuable yellow diamond ring. She is the Florence of <i>Childe +Harold</i>, and merited the poetical embalmment, or rather the amber +immortalisation, she possesses there—being herself a heroine. +There was no exaggeration in saying that many incidents of her life +would appear improbable in fiction. Her adventures with the Marquis +de Salvo form one of the prettiest romances in the Italian language; +everything in her destiny was touched with adventure: nor was it the +least of her claims to sympathy that she had incurred the special enmity +of Napoleon.</p> +<p>After remaining about three weeks at Malta, Byron embarked with his +friend in a brig of war, appointed to convoy a fleet of small merchantmen +to Prevesa. I had, about a fortnight before, passed over with +the packet on her return from Messina to Girgenti, and did not fall +in with them again till the following spring, when we met at Athens. +In the meantime, besides his Platonic dalliance with Mrs Spencer Smith, +Byron had involved himself in a quarrel with an officer; but it was +satisfactorily settled.</p> +<p>His residence at Malta did not greatly interest him. The story +of its chivalrous masters made no impression on his imagination—none +that appears in his works—but it is not the less probable that +the remembrance of the place itself occupied a deep niche in his bosom: +for I have remarked, that he had a voluntary power of forgetfulness, +which, on more than one occasion, struck me as singular: and I am led +in consequence to think, that something unpleasant, connected with this +quarrel, may have been the cause of his suppression of all direct allusion +to the island. It was impossible that his imagination could avoid +the impulses of the spirit which haunts the walls and ramparts of Malta; +and the silence of his muse on a topic so rich in romance, and so well +calculated to awaken associations concerning the knights, in unison +with the ruminations of <i>Childe Harold</i>, persuades me that there +must have been some specific cause for the omission. If it were +nothing in the duel, I should be inclined to say, notwithstanding the +seeming improbability of the notion, that it was owing to some curious +modification of vindictive spite. It might not be that Malta should +receive no celebrity from his pen; but assuredly he had met with something +there which made him resolute to forget the place. The question +as to what it was, he never answered the result would throw light into +the labyrinths of his character.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Sails from Malta to Prevesa</i>—<i>Lands at Patras</i>—<i>Sails +again</i>—<i>Passes Ithaca</i>—<i>Arrival at Prevesa</i></p> +<p>It was on the 19th of September, 1809, that Byron sailed in the <i>Spider</i> +brig from Malta for Prevesa, and on the morning of the fourth day after, +he first saw the mountains of Greece; next day he landed at Patras, +and walked for some time among the currant grounds between the town +and the shore. Around him lay one of the noblest landscapes in +the world, and afar in the north-east rose the purple summits of the +Grecian mountains.</p> +<p>Having re-embarked, the <i>Spider</i> proceeded towards her destination; +the poet not receiving much augmentation to his ideas of the grandeur +of the ancients, from the magnitude of their realms and states. +Ithaca, which he doubtless regarded with wonder and disappointment, +as he passed its cliffy shores, was then in the possession of the French. +In the course of a month after, the kingdom of Ulysses surrendered to +a British serjeant and seven men.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Childe Harold sail’d, and pass’d the +barren spot,<br /> Where sad Penelope o’erlook’d +the wave;<br /> And onward view’d the mount, +not yet forgot.<br /> The lover’s refuge, and +the Lesbian’s grave.<br /> But when he saw the +evening star above<br /> Leucadia’s far-projecting +rock of woe,<br /> And hail’d the last resort +of fruitless love,<br /> He felt, or deem’d he +felt, no common glow;<br /> And as the stately vessel +glided slow<br /> Beneath the shadow of that ancient +mount,<br /> He watch’d the billows’ melancholy +flow,<br /> And, sunk albeit in thought as he was wont—<br />More +placid seem’d his eye, and smooth his pallid front.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>At seven in the evening, of the same day on which he passed Leucadia, +the vessel came to anchor off Prevesa. The day was wet and gloomy, +and the appearance of the town was little calculated to bespeak cheerfulness. +But the novelty in the costume and appearance of the inhabitants and +their dwellings, produced an immediate effect on the imagination of +Byron, and we can trace the vivid impression animating and adorning +his descriptions.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> The wild Albanian, kirtled to his knee,<br /> With +shawl-girt head and ornamented gun,<br /> And gold-embroider’d +garments, fair to see;<br /> The crimson-scarfed men +of Macedon;<br /> The Delhi with his cap of terror +on,<br /> And crooked glaive; the lively, supple Greek,<br /> And +swarthy Nubia’s mutilated son;<br /> The bearded +Turk, that rarely deigns to speak,<br />Master of all around, too potent +to be meek.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Having partaken of a consecutive dinner, dish after dish, with the +brother of the English consul, the travellers proceeded to visit the +Governor of the town: he resided within the enclosure of a fort, and +they were conducted towards him by a long gallery, open on one side, +and through several large unfurnished rooms. In the last of this +series, the Governor received them with the wonted solemn civility of +the Turks, and entertained them with pipes and coffee. Neither +his appearance, nor the style of the entertainment, were distinguished +by any display of Ottoman grandeur; he was seated on a sofa in the midst +of a group of shabby Albanian guards, who had but little reverence for +the greatness of the guests, as they sat down beside them, and stared +and laughed at their conversation with the Governor.</p> +<p>But if the circumstances and aspect of the place derived no importance +from visible splendour, every object around was enriched with stories +and classical recollections. The battle of Actium was fought within +the gulf.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Ambracia’s gulf behold, where once was lost<br /> A +world for woman—lovely, harmless thing!<br /> In +yonder rippling bay, their naval host<br /> Did many +a Roman chief and Asian king<br /> To doubtful conflict, +certain slaughter bring.<br /> Look where the second +Cæsar’s trophies rose!<br /> Now, like +the lands that rear’d them, withering;<br /> Imperial +monarchs doubling human woes!<br />God! was Thy globe ordained for such +to win and lose?</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Having inspected the ruins of Nicopolis, which are more remarkable +for their desultory extent and scattered remnants, than for any remains +of magnificence or of beauty,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Childe Harold pass’d o’er many a mount +sublime,<br /> Through lands scarce noticed in historic +tales.<br /> Yet in famed Attica such lovely dales<br /> Are +rarely seen; nor can fair Tempe boast<br /> A charm +they know not; loved Parnassus fails,<br /> Though +classic ground and consecrated most,<br />To match some spots that lurk +within this lowering coast.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>In this journey he was still accompanied by Mr Hobhouse. They +had provided themselves with a Greek to serve as a dragoman. With +this person they soon became dissatisfied, in consequence of their general +suspicion of Greek integrity, and because of the necessary influence +which such an appendage acquires in the exercise of his office. +He is the tongue and purse-bearer of his master; he procures him lodging, +food, horses, and all conveniences; must support his dignity with the +Turks—a difficult task in those days for a Greek—and his +manifold trusts demand that he should be not only active and ingenious, +but prompt and resolute. In the qualifications of this essential +servant, the travellers were not fortunate—he never lost an opportunity +of pilfering;—he was, however, zealous, bustling, and talkative, +and withal good-humoured; and, having his mind intent on one object—making +money—was never lazy nor drunken, negligent nor unprepared.</p> +<p>On the 1st of October they embarked, and sailed up the Gulf of Salona, +where they were shown into an empty barrack for lodgings. In this +habitation twelve Albanian soldiers and an officer were quartered, who +behaved towards them with civility. On their entrance, the officer +gave them pipes and coffee, and after they had dined in their own apartment, +he invited them to spend the evening with him, and they condescended +to partake of his hospitality.</p> +<p>Such instances as these in ordinary biography would be without interest; +but when it is considered how firmly the impression of them was retained +in the mind of the poet, and how intimately they entered into the substance +of his reminiscences of Greece, they acquire dignity, and become epochal +in the history of the development of his intellectual powers.</p> +<p>“All the Albanians,” says Mr Hobhouse, “strut very +much when they walk, projecting their chests, throwing back their heads, +and moving very slowly from side to side. Elmas (as the officer +was called) had this strut more than any man perhaps we saw afterwards; +and as the sight was then quite new to us, we could not help staring +at the magisterial and superlatively dignified air of a man with great +holes in his elbows, and looking altogether, as to his garment, like +what we call a bull-beggar.” Mr Hobhouse describes him as +a captain, but by the number of men under him, he could have been of +no higher rank than serjeant. Captains are centurions.</p> +<p>After supper, the officer washed his hands with soap, inviting the +travellers to do the same, for they had eaten a little with him; he +did not, however, give the soap, but put it on the floor with an air +so remarkable, as to induce Mr Hobhouse to inquire the meaning of it, +and he was informed that there is a superstition in Turkey against giving +soap: it is thought it will wash away love.</p> +<p>Next day it rained, and the travellers were obliged to remain under +shelter. The evening was again spent with the soldiers, who did +their utmost to amuse them with Greek and Albanian songs and freaks +of jocularity.</p> +<p>In the morning of the 3rd of October they set out for Arta, with +ten horses; four for themselves and servants, four for their luggage, +and two for two soldiers whom they were induced to take with them as +guards. Byron takes no notice of his visit to Arta in <i>Childe +Harold</i>; but Mr Hobhouse has given a minute account of the town. +They met there with nothing remarkable.</p> +<p>The remainder of the journey to Joannina, the capital then of the +famous Ali Pasha, was rendered unpleasant by the wetness of the weather; +still it was impossible to pass through a country so picturesque in +its features, and rendered romantic by the traditions of robberies and +conflicts, without receiving impressions of that kind of imagery which +constitutes the embroidery on the vestment of poetry.</p> +<p>The first view of Joannina seen in the morning light, or glittering +in the setting sun, is lively and alluring. The houses, domes, +and minarets, shining through gardens of orange and lemon trees and +groves of cypresses; the lake, spreading its broad mirror at the foot +of the town, and the mountains rising abrupt around, all combined to +present a landscape new and beautiful. Indeed, where may be its +parallel? the lake was the Acherusian, Mount Pindus was in sight, and +the Elysian fields of mythology spread in the lovely plains over which +they passed in approaching the town.</p> +<p>On entering Joannina, they were appalled by a spectacle characteristic +of the country. Opposite a butcher’s shop, they beheld hanging +from the boughs of a tree a man’s arm, with part of the side torn +from the body. How long is it since Temple Bar, in the very heart +of London, was adorned with the skulls of the Scottish noblemen who +were beheaded for their loyalty to the son and representative of their +ancient kings!</p> +<p>The object of the visit to Joannina was to see Ali Pasha, in those +days the most celebrated Vizier in all the western provinces of the +Ottoman empire; but he was then at Tepellené. The luxury +of resting, however, in a capital, was not to be resisted, and they +accordingly suspended their journey until they had satisfied their curiosity +with an inspection of every object which merited attention. Of +Joannina, it may be said, they were almost the discoverers, so little +was known of it in England—I may say in Western Europe—previous +to their visit.</p> +<p>The palace and establishment of Ali Pasha were of regal splendour, +combining with Oriental pomp the elegance of the Occident, and the travellers +were treated by the Vizier’s officers with all the courtesy due +to the rank of Lord Byron, and every facility was afforded them to prosecute +their journey. The weather, however—the season being far +advanced—was wet and unsettled, and they suffered more fatigue +and annoyance than travellers for information or pleasure should have +had to encounter.</p> +<p>The journey from Joannina to Zitza is among the happiest sketches +in the <i>Pilgrimage of Childe Harold.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> He pass’d bleak Pindus, Acherusia’s +lake,<br /> And left the primal city of the land,<br /> And +onwards did his farther journey take<br /> To greet +Albania’s chief, whose dread command<br /> Is +lawless law; for with a bloody hand<br /> He sways +a nation, turbulent and bold:<br /> Yet here and there +some daring mountain-band<br /> Disdain his power, +and from their rocky hold<br />Hurl their defiance far, nor yield unless +to gold.</p> +<p> Monastic Zitza! from thy shady brow,<br /> Thou +small, but favour’d spot of holy ground!<br /> Where’er +we gaze, above, around, below,<br /> What rainbow tints, +what magic charms are found;<br /> Rock, river, forest, +mountain, all abound;<br /> And bluest skies that harmonize +the whole.<br /> Beneath, the distant torrent’s +rushing sound<br /> Tells where the volumed cataract +doth roll<br />Between those hanging rocks that shock yet please the +soul.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>In the course of this journey the poet happened to be alone with +his guides, when they lost their way during a tremendous thunderstorm, +and he has commemorated the circumstance in the spirited stanzas beginning—</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Chill and mink is the nightly blast.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Halt at Zitza</i>—<i>The River Acheron</i>—<i>Greek +Wine</i>—<i>A Greek Chariot</i>—<i>Arrival at Tepellené</i>—<i>The +Vizier’s Palace</i></p> +<p>The travellers, on their arrival at Zitza, went to the monastery +to solicit accommodation; and after some parley with one of the monks, +through a small grating in a door plated with iron, on which marks of +violence were visible, and which, before the country had been tranquillised +under the vigorous dominion of Ali Pasha, had been frequently battered +in vain by the robbers who then infested the neighbourhood. The +prior, a meek and lowly man, entertained them in a warm chamber with +grapes and a pleasant white wine, not trodden out by the feet, as he +informed them, but expressed by the hand. To this gentle and kind +host Byron alludes in his description of “Monastic Zitza.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Amid the grove that crowns yon tufted hill,<br /> Which, +were it not for many a mountain nigh<br /> Rising in +lofty ranks, and loftier still,<br /> Might well itself +be deem’d of dignity;<br /> The convent’s +white walls glisten fair on high:<br /> Here dwells +the caloyer, nor rude is he,<br /> Nor niggard of his +cheer; the passer-by<br /> Is welcome still; nor heedless +will he flee<br />From hence, if he delight kind Nature’s sheen +to see.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Having halted a night at Zitza, the travellers proceeded on their +journey next morning, by a road which led through the vineyards around +the villages, and the view from a barren hill, which they were obliged +to cross, is described with some of the most forcible touches of the +poet’s pencil.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Dusky and huge, enlarging on the sight,<br /> Nature’s +volcanic amphitheatre,<br /> Chimera’s Alps, +extend from left to right;<br /> Beneath, a living +valley seems to stir.<br /> Flocks play, trees wave, +streams flow, the mountain fir<br /> Nodding above; +behold Black Acheron!<br /> Once consecrated to the +sepulchre.<br /> Pluto! if this be hell I look upon,<br />Close +shamed Elysium’s gates; my shade shall seek for none!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The Acheron, which they crossed in this route, is now called the +Kalamas, a considerable stream, as large as the Avon at Bath but towards +the evening they had some cause to think the Acheron had not lost all +its original horror; for a dreadful thunderstorm came on, accompanied +with deluges of rain, which more than once nearly carried away their +luggage and horses. Byron himself does not notice this incident +in <i>Childe Harold</i>, nor even the adventure more terrific which +he met with alone in similar circumstances on the night before their +arrival at Zitza, when his guides lost their way in the defiles of the +mountains—adventures sufficiently disagreeable in the advent, +but full of poesy in the remembrance.</p> +<p>The first halt, after leaving Zitza, was at the little village of +Mosure, where they were lodged in a miserable cabin, the residence of +a poor priest, who treated them with all the kindness his humble means +afforded. From this place they proceeded next morning through +a wild and savage country, interspersed with vineyards, to Delvinaki, +where it would seem they first met with genuine Greek wine, that is, +wine mixed with resin and lime—a more odious draught at the first +taste than any drug the apothecary mixes. Considering how much +of allegory entered into the composition of the Greek mythology, it +is probable that in representing the infant Bacchus holding a pine, +the ancient sculptors intended an impersonation of the circumstance +of resin being employed to preserve new wine.</p> +<p>The travellers were now in Albania, the native region of Ali Pasha, +whom they expected to find at Libokavo; but on entering the town, they +were informed that he was further up the country at Tepellené, +or Tepalen, his native place. In their route from Libokavo to +Tepalen they met with no adventure, nor did they visit Argyro-castro, +which they saw some nine or ten miles off—a large city, supposed +to contain about twenty thousand inhabitants, chiefly Turks. When +they reached Cezarades, a distance of not more than nine miles, which +had taken them five hours to travel, they were agreeably accommodated +for the night in a neat cottage; and the Albanian landlord, in whose +demeanour they could discern none of that cringing, downcast, sinister +look which marked the degraded Greek, received them with a hearty welcome.</p> +<p>Next morning they resumed their journey, and halted one night more +before they reached Tepellené, in approaching which they met +a carriage, not inelegantly constructed after the German fashion, with +a man on the box driving four-in-hand, and two Albanian soldiers standing +on the footboard behind. They were floundering on at a trot through +mud and mire, boldly regardless of danger; but it seemed to the English +eyes of the travellers impossible that such a vehicle should ever be +able to reach Libokavo, to which it was bound. In due time they +crossed the river Laos, or Voioutza, which was then full, and appeared +both to Byron and his friend as broad as the Thames at Westminster; +after crossing it on a stone bridge, they came in sight of Tepellené, +when</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> The sun had sunk behind vast Tomerit,<br /> And +Laos, wide and fierce, came roaring by;<br /> The shades +of wonted night were gathering yet,<br /> When down +the steep banks, winding warily,<br /> Childe Harold +saw, like meteors in the sky,<br /> The glittering +minarets of Tepalen,<br /> Whose walls o’erlook +the stream; and drawing nigh,<br /> He heard the busy +hum of warrior-men<br />Swelling the breeze that sigh’d along +the lengthening glen.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>On their arrival, they proceeded at once to the residence of Ali +Pasha, an extensive rude pile, where they witnessed a scene, not dissimilar +to that which they might, perhaps, have beheld some hundred years ago, +in the castle-yard of a great feudal baron. Soldiers, with their +arms piled against the wall, were assembled in different parts of the +court, several horses, completely caparisoned, were led about, others +were neighing under the hands of the grooms; and for the feast of the +night, armed cooks were busy dressing kids and sheep. The scene +is described with the poet’s liveliest pencil.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Richly caparison’d a ready row<br /> Of +armed horse, and many a warlike store,<br /> Circled +the wide extending court below;<br /> Above, strange +groups adorn’d the corridor,<br /> And ofttimes +through the area’s echoing door,<br /> Some high-capp’d +Tartar spurr’d his steed away.<br /> The Turk, +the Greek, the Albanian, and the Moor<br /> Here mingled +in their many-hued array,<br />While the deep war-drum’s sound +announced the close of day.</p> +<p> Some recline +in groups,<br /> Scanning the motley scene that varies +round.<br /> There some grave Moslem to devotion stoops,<br /> And +some that smoke, and some that play, are found.<br /> Here +the Albanian proudly treads the ground<br /> Half-whispering, +there the Greek is heard to prate.<br /> Hark! from +the mosque the nightly solemn sound;<br /> The Muezzin’s +call doth shake the minaret.<br />“There is no god but God!—to +prayer—lo, God is great!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The peculiar quietness and ease with which the Mahommedans say their +prayers, struck the travellers as one of the most peculiar characteristics +which they had yet witnessed of that people. Some of the graver +sort began their devotions in the places where they were sitting, undisturbed +and unnoticed by those around them who were otherwise engaged. +The prayers last about ten minutes they are not uttered aloud, but generally +in a low voice, sometimes with only a motion of the lips; and, whether +performed in the public street or in a room, attract no attention from +the bystanders. Of more than a hundred of the guards in the gallery +of the Vizier’s mansion at Tepellené, not more than five +or six were seen at prayers. The Albanians are not reckoned strict +Mahommedans; but no Turk, however irreligious himself, ever disturbs +the devotion of others.</p> +<p>It was then the fast of Ramazan, and the travellers, during the night, +were annoyed with the perpetual noise of the carousal kept up in the +gallery, and by the drum, and the occasional voice of the Muezzin.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Just at this season, Ramazani’s fast<br /> Through +the long day its penance did maintain:<br /> But when +the lingering twilight hour was past,<br /> Revel and +feast assumed the rule again.<br /> Now all was bustle, +and the menial train<br /> Prepared and spread the +plenteous board within;<br /> The vacant gallery now +seem’d made in vain,<br /> But from the chambers +came the mingling din,<br />And page and slave, anon, were passing out +and in.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Audience appointed with Ali Pasha</i>—<i>Description of +the Vizier’s Person</i>—<i>An Audience of the Vizier of +the Morea</i></p> +<p>The progress of no other poet’s mind can be to clearly traced +to personal experience as that of Byron’s. The minute details +in the <i>Pilgrimage of Childe Harold</i> are the observations of an +actual traveller. Had they been given in prose, they could not +have been less imbued with fiction. From this fidelity they possess +a value equal to the excellence of the poetry, and ensure for themselves +an interest as lasting as it is intense. When the manners and +customs of the inhabitants shall have been changed by time and the vicissitudes +of society, the scenery and the mountains will bear testimony to the +accuracy of Lord Byron’s descriptions.</p> +<p>The day after the travellers’ arrival at Tepellené was +fixed by the Vizier for their first audience; and about noon, the time +appointed, an officer of the palace with a white wand announced to them +that his highness was ready to receive them, and accordingly they proceeded +from their own apartment, accompanied by the secretary of the Vizier, +and attended by their own dragoman. The usher of the white rod +led the way, and conducted them through a suite of meanly-furnished +apartments to the presence chamber. Ali when they entered was +standing, a courtesy of marked distinction from a Turk. As they +advanced towards him, he seated himself, and requested them to sit near +him. The room was spacious and handsomely fitted up, surrounded +by that species of continued sofa which the upholsterers call a divan, +covered with richly-embroidered velvet; in the middle of the floor was +a large marble basin, in which a fountain was playing.</p> +<p> In marble-paved pavilion, where a spring<br /> Of +living water from the centre rose,<br /> Whose bubbling +did a genial freshness fling,<br /> And soft voluptuous +couches breathed repose,<br /> ALI reclined; a man +of war and woes.<br /> Yet in his lineaments ye cannot +trace,<br /> While Gentleness her milder radiance throws<br /> Along +that aged, venerable face,<br />The deeds that lurk beneath and stain +him with disgrace.</p> +<p> It is not that yon hoary, lengthening beard,<br /> Ill +suits the passions that belong to youth;<br /> Love +conquers age—so Hafiz hath averr’d:<br /> So +sings the Teian, and he sings in sooth—<br /> But +crimes that scorn the tender voice of Ruth,<br /> Beseeming +all men ill, but most the man<br /> In years, have +mark’d him with a tiger’s tooth;<br /> Blood +follows blood, and through their mortal span,<br />In bloodier acts +conclude those who with blood began.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>When this was written Ali Pasha was still living; but the prediction +which it implies was soon after verified, and he closed his stern and +energetic life with a catastrophe worthy of its guilt and bravery. +He voluntarily perished by firing a powder-magazine, when surrounded, +beyond all chance of escape, by the troops of the Sultan his master, +whose authority he had long contemned.</p> +<p>Mr Hobhouse describes him at this audience as a short fat man, about +five feet five inches in height; with a very pleasing face, fair and +round; and blue fair eyes, not settled into a Turkish gravity. +His beard was long and hoary, and such a one as any other Turk would +have been proud of; nevertheless, he, who was more occupied in attending +to his guests than himself, neither gazed at it, smelt it, nor stroked +it, according to the custom of his countrymen, when they seek to fill +up the pauses in conversation. He was not dressed with the usual +magnificence of dignitaries of his degree, except that his high turban, +composed of many small rolls, was of golden muslin, and his yataghan +studded with diamonds.</p> +<p>He was civil and urbane in the entertainment of his guests, and requested +them to consider themselves as his children. It was on this occasion +he told Lord Byron, that he discovered his noble blood by the smallness +of his hands and ears: a remark which has become proverbial, and is +acknowledged not to be without truth in the evidence of pedigree.</p> +<p>The ceremonies on such visits are similar all over Turkey, among +personages of the same rank; and as Lord Byron has not described in +verse the details of what took place with him, it will not be altogether +obtrusive here to recapitulate what happened to myself during a visit +to Velhi Pasha, the son of Ali: he was then Vizier of the Morea, and +residing at Tripolizza.</p> +<p>In the afternoon, about four o’clock, I set out for the seraglio +with Dr Teriano, the Vizier’s physician, and the Vizier’s +Italian secretary. The gate of the palace was not unlike the entrance +to some of the closes in Edinburgh, and the court within reminded me +of Smithfield, in London; but it was not surrounded by such lofty buildings, +nor in any degree of comparison so well constructed. We ascended +a ruinous staircase, which led to an open gallery, where three or four +hundred of the Vizier’s Albanian guards were lounging. In +an antechamber, which opened from the gallery, a number of officers +were smoking, and in the middle, on the floor, two old Turks were seriously +engaged at chess.</p> +<p>My name being sent in to the Vizier, a guard of ceremony was called, +and after they had arranged themselves in the presence chamber, I was +admitted. The doctor and the secretary having, in the meantime, +taken off their shoes, accompanied me in to act as interpreters.</p> +<p>The presence chamber was about forty feet square, showy and handsome: +round the walls were placed sofas, which, from being covered with scarlet, +reminded me of the woolsacks in the House of Lords. In the farthest +corner of the room, elevated on a crimson velvet cushion, sat the Vizier, +wrapped in a superb pelisse: on his head was a vast turban, in his belt +a dagger, incrusted with jewels, and on the little finger of his right +hand he wore a solitaire as large as the knob on the stopper of a vinegar-cruet, +and which was said to have cost two thousand five hundred pounds sterling. +In his left hand he held a string of small coral beads, a comboloio +which he twisted backwards and forwards during the greater part of the +visit. On the sofa beside him lay a pair of richly-ornamented +London-made pistols. At some distance, on the same sofa, but not +on a cushion, sat Memet, the Pasha of Napoli Romania, whose son was +contracted in marriage to the Vizier’s daughter. On the +floor, at the foot of this pasha, and opposite to the Vizier, a secretary +was writing despatches. These were the only persons in the room +who had the honour of being seated; for, according to the etiquette +of this viceregal court, those who received the Vizier’s pay were +not allowed to sit down in his presence.</p> +<p>On my entrance, his highness motioned to me to sit beside him, and +through the medium of the interpreters began with some commonplace courtly +insignificancies, as a prelude to more interesting conversation. +In his manners I found him free and affable, with a considerable tincture +of humour and drollery. Among other questions, he inquired if +I had a wife: and being answered in the negative, he replied to me himself +in Italian, that I was a happy man, for he found his very troublesome: +considering their probable number, this was not unlikely. Pipes +and coffee were in the mean-time served. The pipe presented to +the Vizier was at least twelve feet long; the mouth-piece was formed +of a single block of amber, about the size of an ordinary cucumber, +and fastened to the shaft by a broad hoop of gold, decorated with jewels. +While the pipes and coffee were distributing, a musical clock, which +stood in a niche, began to play, and continued doing so until this ceremony +was over. The coffee was literally a drop of dregs in a very small +china cup, placed in a golden socket. His highness was served +with his coffee by Pasha Bey, his generalissimo, a giant, with the tall +crown of a dun-coloured beaver-hat on his head. In returning the +cup to him, the Vizier elegantly eructed in his face. After the +regale of the pipes and coffee, the attendants withdrew, and his highness +began a kind of political discussion, in which, though making use of +an interpreter, he managed to convey his questions with delicacy and +address.</p> +<p>On my rising to retire, his highness informed me, with more polite +condescension than a Christian of a thousandth part of his authority +would have done, that during my stay at Tripolizza horses were at my +command, and guards who would accompany me to any part of the country +I might choose to visit.</p> +<p>Next morning, he sent a complimentary message, importing, that he +had ordered dinner to be prepared at the doctor’s for me and two +of his officers. The two officers were lively fellows; one of +them in particular seemed to have acquired, by instinct, a large share +of the ease and politeness of Christendom. The dinner surpassed +all count and reckoning, dish followed dish, till I began to fancy that +the cook either expected I would honour his highness’s entertainment +as Cæsar did the supper of Cicero, or supposed that the party +were not finite beings. During the course of this amazing service, +the principal singers and musicians of the seraglio arrived, and sung +and played several pieces of very sweet Turkish music. Among others +was a song composed by the late unfortunate Sultan Selim, the air of +which was pleasingly simple and pathetic. I had heard of the Sultan’s +poetry before, a small collection of which has been printed. It +is said to be interesting and tender, consisting chiefly of little sonnets, +written after he was deposed; in which he contrasts the tranquillity +of his retirement with the perils and anxieties of his former grandeur. +After the songs, the servants of the officers, who were Albanians, danced +a Macedonian reel, in which they exhibited several furious specimens +of Highland agility. The officers then took their leave, and I +went to bed, equally gratified by the hospitality of the Vizier and +the incidents of the entertainment.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>The Effect of Ali Pasha’s Character on Lord Byron</i>—<i>Sketch +of the Career of Ali</i>, <i>and the Perseverance with which he pursued +the Objects of his Ambition</i></p> +<p>Although many traits and lineaments of Lord Byron’s own character +may be traced in the portraits of his heroes, I have yet often thought +that Ali Pasha was the model from which he drew several of their most +remarkable features; and on this account it may be expedient to give +a sketch of that bold and stern personage—if I am correct in my +conjecture—and the reader can judge for himself when the picture +is before him—it would be a great defect, according to the plan +of this work, not to do so.</p> +<p>Ali Pasha was born at Tepellené, about the year 1750. +His father was a pasha of two tails, but possessed of little influence. +At his death Ali succeeded to no inheritance but the house in which +he was born; and it was his boast, in the plenitude of his power, that +he began his fortune with sixty paras, about eighteen pence sterling, +and a musket. At that time the country was much infested with +cattle-stealers, and the flocks and herds of the neighbouring villages +were often plundered.</p> +<p>Ali collected a few followers from among the retainers of his father, +made himself master, first of one village, then of another, amassed +money, increased his power, and at last found himself at the head of +a considerable body of Albanians, whom he paid by plunder; for he was +then only a great robber—the Rob Roy of Albania: in a word, one +of those independent freebooters who divide among themselves so much +of the riches and revenues of the Ottoman dominions.</p> +<p>In following up this career, he met with many adventures and reverses, +but his course was still onwards, and uniformly distinguished by enterprise +and cruelty. His enemies expected no mercy when vanquished in +the field; and when accidentally seized in private, they were treated +with equal rigour. It is reported that he even roasted alive on +spits some of his most distinguished adversaries.</p> +<p>When he had collected money enough, he bought a pashalic; and being +invested with that dignity, he became still more eager to enlarge his +possessions. He continued in constant war with the neighbouring +pashas; and cultivating, by adroit agents, the most influential interest +at Constantinople, he finally obtained possession of Joannina, and was +confirmed pasha of the territory attached to it, by an imperial firman. +He then went to war with the pashas of Arta, of Delvino, and of Ocrida, +whom he subdued, together with that of Triccala, and established a predominant +influence over the agas of Thessaly. The pasha of Vallona he poisoned +in a bath at Sophia; and strengthened his power by marrying his two +sons, Mouctar and Velhi, to the daughters of the successor and brother +of the man whom he had murdered. In <i>The Bride of Abydos</i>, +Lord Byron describes the assassination, but applies it to another party.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Reclined and feverish in the bath,<br />He, when the hunter’s +sport was up,<br />But little deem’d a brother’s wrath<br />To +quench his thirst had such a cup:<br />The bowl a bribed attendant bore—<br />He +drank one draught, nor needed more.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>During this progression of his fortunes, he had been more than once +called upon to furnish his quota of troops to the imperial armies, and +had served at their head with distinction against the Russians. +He knew his countrymen, however, too well ever to trust himself at Constantinople. +It was reported that he had frequently been offered some of the highest +offices in the empire, but he always declined them and sought for power +only among the fastnesses of his native region. Stories of the +skill and courage with which he counteracted several machinations to +procure his head were current and popular throughout the country, and +among the Greeks in general he was certainly regarded as inferior only +to the Grand Vizier himself. But though distrusting and distrusted, +he always in the field fought for the Sultan with great bravery, particularly +against the famous rebel Paswan Oglou. On his return from that +war in 1798, he was, in consequence, made a pasha of three tails, or +vizier, and was more than once offered the ultimate dignity of Grand +Vizier, but he still declined all the honours of the metropolis. +The object of his ambition was not temporary power, but to found a kingdom.</p> +<p>He procured, however, pashalics for his two sons, the younger of +whom, Velhi, saved sufficient money in his first government to buy the +pashalic of the Morea, with the dignity of vizier, for which he paid +seventy-five thousand pounds sterling. His eldest son, Mouctar, +was of a more warlike turn, with less ambition than his brother. +At the epoch of which I am speaking, he supplied his father’s +place at the head of the Albanians in the armies of the Sultan, in which +he greatly distinguished himself in the campaign of 1809 against the +Russians.</p> +<p>The difficulties which Ali Pasha had to encounter in establishing +his ascendancy, did not arise so much from the opposition he met with +from the neighbouring pashas as from the nature of the people, and of +the country of which he was determined to make himself master. +Many of the plains and valleys which composed his dominions were occupied +by inhabitants who had been always in rebellion, and were never entirely +conquered by the Turks, such as the Chimeriotes, the Sulliotes, and +the nations living among the mountains adjacent to the coast of the +Ionian Sea. Besides this, the woods and hills of every part of +his dominions were in a great degree possessed by formidable bands of +robbers, who, recruited and protected by the villages, and commanded +by chiefs as brave and as enterprising as himself, laid extensive tracts +under contribution, burning and plundering regardless of his jurisdiction. +Against these he proceeded with the most iron severity; they were burned, +hanged, beheaded, and impaled, in all parts of the country, until they +were either exterminated or expelled.</p> +<p>A short time before the arrival of Lord Byron at Joannina, a large +body of insurgents who infested the mountains between that city and +Triccala, were defeated and dispersed by Mouctar Pasha, who cut to pieces +a hundred of them on the spot. These robbers had been headed by +a Greek priest, who, after the defeat, went to Constantinople and procured +a firman of protection, with which he ventured to return to Joannina, +where the Vizier invited him to a conference, and made him a prisoner. +In deference to the firman, Ali confined him in prison, but used him +well until a messenger could bring from Constantinople a permission +from the Porte to authorise him to do what he pleased with the rebel. +It was the arm of this man which Byron beheld suspended from the bough +on entering Joannina.</p> +<p>By these vigorous measures, Ali Pasha rendered the greater part of +Albania and the contiguous districts safely accessible, which were before +overrun by bandits and freebooters; and consequently, by opening the +country to merchants, and securing their persons and goods, not only +increased his own revenues, but improved the condition of his subjects. +He built bridges over the rivers, raised causeways over the marshes, +opened roads, adorned the country and the towns with new buildings, +and by many salutary regulations, acted the part of a just, though a +merciless, prince.</p> +<p>In private life he was no less distinguished for the same unmitigated +cruelty, but he afforded many examples of strong affection. The +wife of his son Mouctar was a great favourite with the old man. +Upon paying her a visit one morning, he found her in tears. He +questioned her several times as to the cause of her grief; she at last +reluctantly acknowledged that it arose from the diminution of her husband’s +regard. He inquired if she thought he paid attention to other +women; the reply was in the affirmative; and she related that a lady +of the name of Phrosynè, the wife of a rich Jew, had beguiled +her of her husband’s love; for she had seen at the bath, upon +the finger of Phrosynè, a rich ring, which had belonged to Mouctar, +and which she had often in vain entreated him to give to her. +Ali immediately ordered the lady to be seized, and to be tied up in +a sack, and cast into the lake. Various versions of this tragical +tale are met with in all parts of the country, and the fate of Phrosynè +is embodied in a ballad of touching pathos and melody.</p> +<p>That the character of this intrepid and ruthless warrior made a deep +impression on the mind of Byron cannot be questioned. The scenes +in which he acted were, as the poet traversed the country, everywhere +around him; and his achievements, bloody, dark, and brave, had become +themes of song and admiration.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIV</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Leave Joannina for Prevesa</i>—<i>Land at Fanari</i>—<i>Albania</i>—<i>Byron’s +Character of the Inhabitants</i></p> +<p>Having gratified their curiosity with an inspection of every object +of interest at Tepellené, the travellers returned Joannina, where +they again resided several days, partaking of the hospitality of the +principal inhabitants. On the 3rd of November they bade it adieu, +and returned to Salona, on the Golf of Arta; where, in consequence of +hearing that the inhabitants of Carnia were up in arms, that numerous +bands of robbers had descended from the mountains of Ziccola and Agrapha, +and had made their appearance on the other side of the gulf, they resolved +to proceed by water to Prevesa, and having presented an order which +they had received from Ali Pasha, for the use of his galliot, she was +immediately fitted out to convey them. In the course of the voyage +they suffered a great deal of alarm, ran some risk, and were obliged +to land on the mainland of Albania, in a bay called Fanari, contiguous +to the mountainous district of Sulli. There they procured horses, +and rode to Volondorako, a town belonging to the Vizier, by the primate +of which and his highness’s garrison they were received with all +imaginable civility. Having passed the night there, they departed +in the morning, which, proving bright and beautiful, afforded them interesting +views of the steep romantic environs of Sulli.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Land of Albania, where Iskander rose,<br /> Theme +of the young, and beacon of the wise,<br /> And he +his namesake whose oft-baffled foes<br /> Shrunk from +his deeds of chivalrous emprise;<br /> Land of Albania! +let me bend mine eyes<br /> On thee, thou rugged nurse +of savage men!<br /> The Cross descends, thy minarets +arise,<br /> And the pale crescent sparkles in the +glen,<br />Through many a cypress grove within each city’s ken.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Of the inhabitants of Albania—the Arnaouts or Albanese—Lord +Byron says they reminded him strongly of the Highlanders of Scotland, +whom they undoubtedly resemble in dress, figure, and manner of living. +“The very mountains seemed Caledonian with a kinder climate. +The kilt, though white, the spare active form, their dialect, Celtic +in its sound, and their hardy habits, all carried me back to Morven. +No nation are so detested and dreaded by their neighbours as the Albanese; +the Greeks hardly regard them as Christians, or the Turks as Moslems, +and in fact they are a mixture of both, and sometimes neither. +Their habits are predatory: all are armed, and the red-shawled Arnaouts, +the Montenegrins, Chimeriotes, and Gedges, are treacherous; the others +differ somewhat in garb, and essentially in character. As far +as my own experience goes, I can speak favourably. I was attended +by two, an infidel and a Mussulman, to Constantinople and every other +part of Turkey which came within my observations, and men more faithful +in peril and indefatigable in service are nowhere to be found. +The infidel was named Basilius, the Moslem Dervish Tahiri; the former +a man of middle age, and the latter about my own. Basili was strictly +charged by Ali Pasha in person to attend us, and Dervish was one of +fifty who accompanied us through the forests of Acarnania, to the banks +of the Achelous, and onward to Missolonghi. There I took him into +my own service, and never had occasion to repent it until the moment +of my departure.</p> +<p>“When in 1810, after my friend, Mr Hobhouse, left me for England, +I was seized with a severe fever in the Morea, these men saved my life +by frightening away my physician, whose throat they threatened to cut +if I was not cured within a given time. To this consolatory assurance +of posthumous retribution, and a resolute refusal of Dr Romanelli’s +prescriptions, I attributed my recovery. I had left my last remaining +English servant at Athens; my dragoman was as ill as myself; and my +poor Arnaouts nursed me with an attention which would have done honour +to civilization.</p> +<p>“They had a variety of adventures, for the Moslem, Dervish, +being a remarkably handsome man, was always squabbling with the husbands +of Athens; insomuch that four of the principal Turks paid me a visit +of remonstrance at the convent, on the subject of his having taken a +woman to the bath—whom he had lawfully bought, however—a +thing quite contrary to etiquette.</p> +<p>“Basili also was extremely gallant among his own persuasion, +and had the greatest veneration for the Church, mixed with the highest +contempt of Churchmen, whom he cuffed upon occasion in a most heterodox +manner. Yet he never passed a church without crossing himself; +and I remember the risk he ran on entering St Sophia, in Stamboul, because +it had once been a place of his worship. On remonstrating with +him on his inconsistent proceedings, he invariably answered, ‘Our +church is holy, our priests are thieves’; and then he crossed +himself as usual, and boxed the ears of the first papas who refused +to assist in any required operation, as was always found to be necessary +where a priest had any influence with the Cogia Bashi of his village. +Indeed, a more abandoned race of miscreants cannot exist than the lower +orders of the Greek clergy.</p> +<p>“When preparations were made for my return, my Albanians were +summoned to receive their pay. Basili took his with an awkward +show of regret at my intended departure, and marched away to his quarters +with his bag of piastres. I sent for Dervish, but for some time +he was not to be found; at last he entered just as Signor Logotheti, +father to the <i>ci-devant</i> Anglo-consul of Athens, and some other +of my Greek acquaintances, paid me a visit. Dervish took the money, +but on a sudden dashed it on the ground; and clasping his hands, which +he raised to his forehead, rushed out of the room weeping bitterly. +From that moment to the hour of my embarkation, he continued his lamentations, +and all our efforts to console him only produced this answer, ‘He +leaves me.’ Signor Logotheti, who never wept before for +anything less than the loss of a paras, melted; the padre of the convent, +my attendants, my visitors, and I verily believe that even Sterne’s +foolish fat scullion would have left her fish-kettle to sympathise with +the unaffected and unexpected sorrow of this barbarian.</p> +<p>“For my part, when I remembered that a short time before my +departure from England, a noble and most intimate associate had excused +himself from taking leave of me, because he had to attend a relation +‘to a milliner’s,’ I felt no less surprised than humiliated +by the present occurrence and the past recollection.</p> +<p>“The Albanians in general (I do not mean the cultivators of +the earth in the provinces, who have also that appellation, but the +mountaineers) have a fine cast of countenance; and the most beautiful +women I have ever beheld, in stature and in features, we saw levelling +the road broken down by the torrents between Delvinaki and Libokavo. +Their manner of walking is truly theatrical, but this strut is probably +the effect of the capote or cloak depending from one shoulder. +Their long hair reminds you of the Spartans, and their courage in desultory +warfare is unquestionable. Though they have some cavalry among +the Gedges, I never saw a good Arnaout horseman, but on foot they are +never to be subdued.”</p> +<p>The travellers having left Volondorako proceeded southward until +they came near to the seaside, and passing along the shore, under a +castle belonging to Ali Pasha, on the lofty summit of a steep rock, +they at last reached Nicopolis again, the ruins of which they revisited.</p> +<p>On their arrival at Prevesa, they had no choice left but that of +crossing Carnia, and the country being, as already mentioned, overrun +with robbers, they provided themselves with a guard of thirty-seven +soldiers, and procured another galliot to take them down the Gulf of +Arta, to the place whence they were to commence their land journey.</p> +<p>Having embarked, they continued sailing with very little wind until +they reached the fortress of Vonitza, where they waited all night for +the freshening of the morning breeze, with which they again set sail, +and about four o’clock in the afternoon arrived at Utraikee.</p> +<p>At this place there was only a custom house and a barrack for troops +close to each other, and surrounded, except towards the water, by a +high wall. In the evening the gates were secured, and preparations +made for feeding their Albanian guards; a goat was killed and roasted +whole, and four fires were kindled in the yard, around which the soldiers +seated themselves in parties. After eating and drinking, the greater +part of them assembled at the largest of the fires, and, while the travellers +were themselves with the elders of the party seated on the ground, danced +round the blaze to their own songs, with astonishing Highland energy.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Childe Harold at a little distance stood,<br /> And +view’d, but not displeased, the revelry,<br /> Nor +hated harmless mirth, however rude;<br /> In sooth, +it was no vulgar sight to see<br /> Their barbarous, +yet their not indecent glee;<br /> And as the flames +along their faces gleam’d,<br /> Their gestures +nimble, dark eyes flashing free,<br /> The long wild +locks that to their girdles stream’d,<br />While thus in concert +they this lay half sang, half scream’d.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> “I talk not of mercy, I talk not of fear;<br /> He +neither must know who would serve the vizier;<br /> Since +the days of our prophet, the crescent ne’er saw<br /> A +chief ever glorious like Ali Pashaw.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XV</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Leave Utraikee</i>—<i>Dangerous Pass in the Woods</i>—<i>Catoona</i>—<i>Quarrel +between the Guard and Primate of the Village</i>—<i>Makala</i>—<i>Gouri</i>—<i>Missolonghi</i>—<i>Parnassus</i></p> +<p>Having spent the night at Utraikee, Byron and his friend continued +their journey southward. The reports of the state of the country +induced them to take ten additional soldiers with them, as their road +for the first two hours lay through dangerous passes in the forest. +On approaching these places fifteen or twenty of the party walked briskly +on before, and when they had gone through the pass halted until the +travellers came up. In the woods two or three green spots were +discovered on the road-side, and on them Turkish tombstones, generally +under a clump of trees, and near a well or fountain.</p> +<p>When they had passed the forest they reached an open country, whence +they sent back the ten men whom they had brought from Utraikee. +They then passed on to a village called Catoona, where they arrived +by noon. It was their intention to have proceeded farther that +day, but their progress was interrupted by an affair between their Albanian +guard and the primate of the village. As they were looking about, +while horses were collecting to carry their luggage, one of the soldiers +drew his sword at the primate, the Greek head magistrate; guns were +cocked, and in an instant, before either Lord Byron or Mr Hobhouse could +stop the affray, the primate, throwing off his shoes and cloak, fled +so precipitately that he rolled down the hill and dislocated his shoulder. +It was a long time before they could persuade him to return to his house, +where they lodged, and when he did return he remarked that he cared +comparatively little about his shoulder to the loss of a purse with +fifteen sequins, which had dropped out of his pocket during the tumble. +The hint was understood.</p> +<p>Catoona is inhabited by Greeks only, and is a rural, well-built village. +The primate’s house was neatly fitted up with sofas. Upon +a knoll, in the middle of the village, stood a schoolhouse, and from +that spot the view was very extensive. To the west are lofty mountains, +ranging from north to south, near the coast; to the east a grand romantic +prospect in the distance, and in the foreground a green valley, with +a considerable river winding through a long line of country.</p> +<p>They had some difficulty in procuring horses at Catoona, and in consequence +were detained until past eleven o’clock the next morning, and +only travelled four hours that day to Makala, a well-built stone village, +containing about forty houses distinct from each other, and inhabited +by Greeks, who were a little above the condition of peasants, being +engaged in pasturage and a small wool-trade.</p> +<p>The travellers were now in Carnia, where they found the inhabitants +much better lodged than in the Albanian villages. The house in +which they slept at this place resembled those old mansions which are +to be met with in the bottoms of the Wiltshire Downs. Two green +courts, one before and the other behind, were attached to it, and the +whole was surrounded by a high and thick wall, which shut out the prospect, +but was necessary in a country so frequently overrun by strong bands +of freebooters.</p> +<p>From Makala they proceeded through the woods, and in the course of +their journey passed three new-made graves, which the Albanians pointing +at as they rode by, said they were “robbers.” In the +course of the journey they had a distant view of the large town of Vraikore, +on the left bank of the Aspro, but they did not approach it, crossing +the river by a ferry to the village of Gouria, where they passed the +night.</p> +<p>Leaving that place in the morning, they took an easterly direction, +and continued to ride across a plain of cornfields, near the banks of +the river, in a rich country; sometimes over stone causeways, and between +the hedges of gardens and olive-groves, until they were stopped by the +sea. This was that fruitful region formerly called Paracheloïtis, +which, according to classic allegory, was drained or torn from the river +Achelous, by the perseverance of Hercules and presented by him for a +nuptial present to the daughter of Oëneus.</p> +<p>The water at which they had now arrived was rather a salt marsh than +the sea, a shallow bay stretching from the mouth of the Gulf of Lepanto +into the land for several miles. Having dismissed their horses, +they passed over in boats to Natolico, a town which stood in the water. +Here they fell in with a hospitable Jew, who made himself remembered +by saying that he was honoured in their having partaken of his little +misery.</p> +<p>Natolico, where they stayed for the night, was a well-built town; +the houses of timber, chiefly of two stories, and about six hundred +in number. Having sent on their baggage in boats, they themselves +proceeded to the town of Missolonghi, so celebrated since as having +suffered greatly during the recent rebellion of the Greeks, but more +particularly as the place where Lord Byron died.</p> +<p>Missolonghi is situated on the south side of the salt marsh or shallow, +along the north coast of the Gulf of Corinth, nearly opposite to Patras. +It is a dull, and I should think an unwholesome place. The marsh, +for miles on each side, has only from a foot to two feet of water on +it, but there is a channel for boats marked out by perches. When +I was there the weather was extremely wet, and I had no other opportunity +of seeing the character of the adjacent country than during the intervals +of the showers. It was green and pastoral, with a short skirt +of cultivation along the bottom of the hills.</p> +<p>Abrupt and rapid as the foregoing sketch of the journey through Albania +has been, it is evident from the novelty of its circumstances that it +could not be performed without leaving deep impressions on the susceptible +mind of the poet. It is impossible, I think, not to allow that +far more of the wildness and romantic gloom of his imagination was derived +from the incidents of this tour, than from all the previous experience +of his life. The scenes he visited, the characters with whom he +became familiar, and above all, the chartered feelings, passions, and +principles of the inhabitants, were greatly calculated to supply his +mind with rare and valuable poetical materials. It is only in +this respect that the details of his travels are interesting.—Considered +as constituting a portion of the education of his genius, they are highly +curious, and serve to show how little, after all, of great invention +is requisite to make interesting and magnificent poetry.</p> +<p>From Missolonghi the travellers passed over the Gulf of Corinth to +Patras, then a rude, half-ruined, open town with a fortress on the top +of a hill; and on the 4th of December, in the afternoon, they proceeded +towards Corinth, but halted at Vostizza, the ancient Ægium, where +they obtained their first view of Parnassus, on the opposite side of +the gulf; rising high above the other peaks of that hilly region, and +capped with snow. It probably was during this first visit to Vostizza +that the Address to Parnassus was suggested.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Oh, thou Parnassus! whom I now survey<br /> Not +in the frensy of a dreamer’s eye,<br /> Not in +the fabled landscape of a lay,<br /> But soaring snow-clad +through thy native sky,<br /> In the wild pomp of mountain +majesty!<br /> What marvel if I thus essay to sing?<br /> The +humblest of thy pilgrims passing by<br /> Would gladly +woo thine echoes with his string,<br />Though from thy heights no more +one muse will wave her wing.</p> +<p> Oft have I dream’d of thee! whose glorious +name<br /> Who knows not, knows not man’s divinest +lore;<br /> And now I view thee, ’tis, alas! +with shame<br /> That I in feeblest accents must adore.<br /> When +I recount thy worshippers of yore<br /> I tremble, +and can only bend the knee;<br /> Nor raise my voice, +nor vainly dare to soar,<br /> But gaze beneath thy +cloudy canopy<br />In silent joy, to think at last I look on thee.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVI</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Vostizza</i>—<i>Battle of Lepanto</i>—<i>Parnassus</i>—<i>Livadia</i>—<i>Cave +at Trophonius</i>—<i>The Fountains of Oblivion and Memory—Chæronéa</i>—<i>Thebes</i>—<i>Athens</i></p> +<p>Vostizza was then a considerable town, containing between three and +four thousand inhabitants, chiefly Greeks. It stands on a rising +ground on the Peloponnesian side of the Gulf of Corinth. I say +stands, but I know not if it has survived the war. The scenery +around it will always make it delightful, while the associations connected +with the Achaian League, and the important events which have happened +in the vicinity, will ever render the site interesting. The battle +of Lepanto, in which Cervantes lost his hand, was fought within sight +of it.</p> +<p>What a strange thing is glory! Three hundred years ago all +Christendom rang with the battle of Lepanto, and yet it is already probable +that it will only be interesting to posterity as an incident in the +life of one of the private soldiers engaged in it. This is certainly +no very mournful reflection to one who is of opinion that there is no +permanent fame, but that which is obtained by adding to the comforts +and pleasures of mankind. Military transactions, after their immediate +effects cease to be felt, are little productive of such a result. +Not that I value military virtues the less by being of this opinion; +on the contrary, I am the more convinced of their excellence. +Burke has unguardedly said, ‘that vice loses half its malignity +by losing its grossness’; but public virtue ceases to be useful +when it sickens at the calamities of necessary war. The moment +that nations become confident of security, they give way to corruption. +The evils and dangers of war seem as requisite for the preservation +of public morals as the laws themselves; at least it is the melancholy +moral of history, that when nations resolve to be peaceful with respect +to their neighbours, they begin to be vicious with respect to themselves. +But to return to the travellers.</p> +<p>On the 14th of December they hired a boat with fourteen men and ten +oars, and sailed to Salona; thence they proceeded to Crisso, and rode +on to Delphi, ascending the mountain on horseback, by a steep, craggy +path towards the north-east. After scaling the side of Parnassus +for about an hour, they saw vast masses of rock, and fragments of stone, +piled in a perilous manner above them, with niches and sepulchres, and +relics, and remains on all sides.</p> +<p>They visited and drank of Castalia, and the prophetic font, Cassotis; +but still, like every other traveller, they were disappointed. +Parnassus is an emblem of the fortune that attends the votaries of the +Muses, harsh, rugged, and barren. The woods that once waved on +Delphi’s steep have all passed away, and may now be sought in +vain.</p> +<p>A few traces of terraces may yet be discovered—here and there +the stump of a column, while niches for receiving votive offerings are +numerous among the cliffs, but it is a lone and dismal place; Desolation +sits with Silence, and Ruin there is so decayed as to be almost Oblivion.</p> +<p>Parnassus is not so much a single mountain as the loftiest of a range; +the cloven summit appears most conspicuous when seen from the south. +The northern view is, however, more remarkable, for the cleft is less +distinguishable, and seven lower peaks suggest, in contemplation with +the summits, the fancy of so many seats of the Muses. These peaks, +nine in all, are the first of the hills which receive the rising sun, +and the last that in the evening part with his light.</p> +<p>From Delphi the travellers proceeded towards Livadia, passing in +the course of the journey the confluence of the three roads where Œdipus +slew his father, an event with its hideous train of fatalities which +could not be recollected by Byron on the spot, even after the tales +of guilt he had gathered in his Albanian journeys, without agitating +associations.</p> +<p>At Livadia they remained the greater part of three days, during which +they examined with more than ordinary minuteness the cave of Trophonius, +and the streams of the Hercyna, composed of the mingled waters of the +two fountains of Oblivion and Memory.</p> +<p>From Livadia, after visiting the battlefield of Chæronéa +(the birthplace of Plutarch), and also many of the almost innumerable +storied and consecrated spots in the neighbourhood, the travellers proceeded +to Thebes—a poor town, containing about five hundred wooden houses, +with two shabby mosques and four humble churches. The only thing +worthy of notice in it is a public clock, to which the inhabitants direct +the attention of strangers as proudly as if it were indeed one of the +wonders of the world. There they still affect to show the fountain +of Dirce and the ruins of the house of Pindar. But it is unnecessary +to describe the numberless relics of the famous things of Greece, which +every hour, as they approached towards Athens, lay more and more in +their way. Not that many remarkable objects met their view; yet +fragments of antiquity were often seen, though many of them were probably +brought far from the edifices to which they had originally belonged; +not for their beauty, or on account of the veneration which the sight +of them inspired, but because they would burn into better lime than +the coarser rock of the hills. Nevertheless, abased and returned +into rudeness as all things were, the presence of Greece was felt, and +Byron could not resist the inspirations of her genius.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Fair Greece! sad relic of departed worth!<br /> Immortal! +though no more; though fallen, great;<br /> Who now +shall lead thy scatter’d children forth<br /> And +long-accustom’d bondage uncreate?<br /> Not such +thy Sons who whilom did await,<br /> The hopeless warriors +of a willing doom,<br /> In bleak Thermopylæ’s +sepulchral strait:<br /> Oh! who that gallant spirit +shall resume,<br />Leap from Eurotas’ banks, and call thee from +the tomb!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>In the course of the afternoon of the day after they had left Thebes, +in attaining the summit of a mountain over which their road lay, the +travellers beheld Athens at a distance, rising loftily, crowned with +the Acropolis in the midst of the plain, the sea beyond, and the misty +hills of Egina blue in the distance.</p> +<p>On a rugged rock rising abruptly on the right, near to the spot where +this interesting vista first opened, they beheld the remains of the +ancient walls of Phyle, a fortress which commanded one of the passes +from Bæotia into Attica, and famous as the retreat of the chief +patriots concerned in destroying the thirty tyrants of Athens.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Spirit of freedom! when on Phyle’s brow<br /> Thou +sat’st with Thrasybulus and his train,<br /> Couldst +thou forebode the dismal hour which now<br /> Dims +the green beauties of thine Attic plain?<br /> Not +thirty tyrants now enforce the chain,<br /> But every +carle can lord it o’er thy land;<br /> Nor rise +thy sons, but idly rail in vain,<br /> Trembling beneath +the scourge of Turkish hand,<br />From birth till death enslaved; in +word, in deed unmann’d.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Such was the condition in which the poet found the country as he +approached Athens; and although the spirit he invoked has reanimated +the dejected race he then beheld around him, the traveller who even +now revisits the country will still look in vain for that lofty mien +which characterises the children of liberty. The fetters of the +Greeks have been struck off, but the blains and excoriated marks of +slavery are still conspicuous upon them; the sinister eye, the fawning +voice, the skulking, crouching, base demeanour, time and many conflicts +only can efface.</p> +<p>The first view of the city was fleeting and unsatisfactory; as the +travellers descended from the mountains the windings of the road among +the hills shut it out. Having passed the village of Casha, they +at last entered upon the slope, and thence into the plain of Attica +but the intervening heights and the trees kept the town concealed, till +a turn of the path brought it full again before them; the Acropolis +crowned with the ruins of the Parthenon—the Museum hill—and +the Monument of Philopappus—</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Ancient of Days—august Athena! where,<br /> Where +are thy men of might? thy grand in soul?<br /> Gone—glimmering +through the dreams of things that were:<br /> First +in the race that led to glory’s goal,<br /> They +won, and pass’d away:—is this the whole?<br /> A +schoolboy’s tale, the wonder of an hour!<br /> The +warrior’s weapon, and the sophist’s stole<br /> Are +sought in vain, and o’er each mouldering tower,<br />Dim with +the mist of years, gray flits the shade of power.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Athens</i>—<i>Byron’s Character of the modern Athenians</i>—<i>Visit +to Eleusis</i>—<i>Visit to the Caverns at Vary and Keratéa</i>—<i>Lost +in the Labyrinths of the latter</i></p> +<p>It has been justly remarked, that were there no other vestiges of +the ancient world in existence than those to be seen at Athens, they +are still sufficient of themselves to justify the admiration entertained +for the genius of Greece. It is not, however, so much on account +of their magnificence as of their exquisite beauty, that the fragments +obtain such idolatrous homage from the pilgrims to the shattered shrines +of antiquity. But Lord Byron had no feeling for art, perhaps it +would be more correct to say he affected none: still, Athens was to +him a text, a theme; and when the first rush of curiosity has been satisfied, +where else can the palled fancy find such a topic.</p> +<p>To the mere antiquary, this celebrated city cannot but long continue +interesting, and to the classic enthusiast, just liberated from the +cloisters of his college, the scenery and the ruins may for a season +inspire delight. Philosophy may there point her moral apophthegms +with stronger emphasis, virtue receive new incitements to perseverance, +by reflecting on the honour which still attends the memory of the ancient +great, and patriotism there more pathetically deplore the inevitable +effects of individual corruption on public glory; but to the man who +seeks a solace from misfortune, or is “a-weary of the sun”; +how wretched, how solitary, how empty is Athens!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Yet to the remnants of thy splendour past<br /> Shall +pilgrims, pensive, but unwearied throng;<br /> Long +shall the voyager, with th’ Ionian blast,<br /> Hail +the bright clime of battle and of song;<br /> Long +shall thy annals and immortal tongue<br /> Fill with +thy fame the youth of many a shore;<br /> Boast of +the aged! lesson of the young!<br /> Which sages venerate +and bards adore,<br />As Pallas and the Muse unveil their awful lore!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Of the existing race of Athenians Byron has observed, that they are +remarkable for their cunning: “Among the various foreigners resident +in Athens there was never a difference of opinion in their estimate +of the Greek character, though on all other topics they disputed with +great acrimony. M. Fauvel, the French consul, who has passed thirty +years at Athens, frequently declared in my hearing, that the Greeks +do not deserve to be emancipated, reasoning on the ground of their national +and individual depravity—while he forgot that such depravity is +to be attributed to causes which can only be removed by the measures +he reprobates.</p> +<p>“M. Roque, a French merchant of respectability long settled +in Athens, asserted with the most amusing gravity, ‘Sir, they +are the same canaille that existed in the days of Themistocles.’ +The ancients banished Themistocles; the moderns cheat Monsieur Roque: +thus great men have ever been treated.</p> +<p>“In short, all the Franks who are fixtures, and most of the +Englishmen, Germans, Danes, etc., of passage, came over by degrees to +their opinion, on much the same grounds that a Turk in England would +condemn the nation by wholesale, because he was wronged by his lackey +and overcharged by his washerwoman. Certainly, it was not a little +staggering when the Sieurs Fauvel and Lusieri, the two greatest demagogues +of the day, who divide between them the power of Pericles and the popularity +of Cleon, and puzzle the poor Waywode with perpetual differences, agreed +in the utter condemnation of the Greeks in general, and of the Athenians +in particular.”</p> +<p>I have quoted his Lordship thus particularly because after his arrival +at Athens he laid down his pen. <i>Childe Harold</i> there disappears. +Whether he had written the pilgrimage up to that point at Athens I have +not been able to ascertain; while I am inclined to think it was so, +as I recollect he told me there that he had then described or was describing +the reception he had met with at Tepellené from Ali Pasha.</p> +<p>After having halted some time at Athens, where they established their +headquarters, the travellers, when they had inspected the principal +antiquities of the city (those things which all travellers must visit), +made several excursions into the environs, and among other places went +to Eleusis.</p> +<p>On the 13th of January they mounted earlier than usual, and set out +on that road which has the site of the Academy and the Colonos, the +retreat of Œdipus during his banishment, a little to the right; +they then entered the Olive Groves, crossed the Cephessus, and came +to an open, well-cultivated plain, extending on the left to the Piræus +and the sea. Having ascended by a gentle acclivity through a pass, +at the distance of eight or ten miles from Athens, the ancient Corydallus, +now called Daphnérouni, they came, at the bottom of a piney mountain, +to the little monastery of Daphné, the appearance and situation +of which are in agreeable unison. The monastery was then fast +verging into that state of the uninhabitable picturesque so much admired +by young damsels and artists of a romantic vein. The pines on +the adjacent mountains hiss as they ever wave their boughs, and somehow, +such is the lonely aspect of the place, that their hissing may be imagined +to breathe satire against the pretensions of human vanity.</p> +<p>After passing through the hollow valley in which this monastic habitation +is situated, the road sharply turns round an elbow of the mountain, +and the Eleusinian plain opens immediately in front. It is, however, +for a plain, but of small dimensions. On the left is the Island +of Salamis, and the straits where the battle was fought; but neither +of it nor of the mysteries for which the Temple of Ceres was for so +many ages celebrated, has the poet given us description or suggestion; +and yet few topics among all his wild and wonderful subjects were so +likely to have furnished such “ample room, and verge enough” +to his fancy.</p> +<p>The next excursion in any degree interesting, if a qualification +of that kind can be applied to excursions, in Attica, was to Cape Colonna. +Crossing the bed of the Ilissus and keeping nearer to Mount Hymettus, +the travellers arrived at Vary, a farm belonging to the monastery of +Agios Asomatos, and under the charge of a caloyer. Here they stopped +for the night, and being furnished with lights, and attended by the +caloyer’s servant as a guide, they proceeded to inspect the Paneum, +or sculptured cavern in that neighbourhood, into which they descended. +Having satisfied their curiosity there, they proceeded, in the morning, +to Keratéa, a small town containing about two hundred and fifty +houses, chiefly inhabited by rural Albanians.</p> +<p>The wetness of the weather obliged them to remain several days at +Keratéa, during which they took the opportunity of a few hours +of sunshine to ascend the mountain of Parné in quest of a cave +of which many wonderful things were reported in the country. Having +found the entrance, kindled their pine torches, and taken a supply of +strips of the same wood, they let themselves down through a narrow aperture; +creeping still farther down, they came into what seemed a large subterranean +hall, arched as it were with high cupolas of crystal, and divided into +long aisles by columns of glittering spar, in some parts spread into +wide horizontal chambers, in others terminated by the dark mouths of +deep and steep abysses receding into the interior of the mountain.</p> +<p>The travellers wandered from one grotto to another until they came +to a fountain of pure water, by the side of which they lingered some +time, till, observing that their torches were wasting, they resolved +to return; but after exploring the labyrinth for a few minutes, they +found themselves again close beside this mysterious spring. It +was not without reason they then became alarmed, for the guide confessed +with trepidation that he had forgotten the intricacies of the cave, +and knew not how to recover the outlet.</p> +<p>Byron often described this adventure with spirit and humour, magnifying +both his own and his friend’s terrors; and though, of course, +there was caricature in both, yet the distinction was characteristic. +Mr Hobhouse, being of a more solid disposition naturally, could discern +nothing but a grave cause for dread in being thus lost in the bowels +of the earth; Byron, however, described his own anxiety as a species +of excitement and titillation which moved him to laughter. Their +escape from starvation and being buried alive was truly providential.</p> +<p>While roaming in a state of despair from cave to cell; climbing up +narrow apertures; their last pine-torch fast consuming; totally ignorant +of their position, and all around darkness, they discovered, as it were +by accident, a ray of light gleaming towards them; they hastened towards +it, and arrived at the mouth of the cave.</p> +<p>Although the poet has not made any use of this incident in description, +the actual experience which it gave him of what despair is, could not +but enrich his metaphysical store, and increase his knowledge of terrible +feelings; of the workings of the darkest and dreadest anticipations—slow +famishing death—cannibalism and the rage of self-devouring hunger.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Proceed from Keratéa to Cape Colonna</i>—<i>Associations +connected with the Spot</i>—<i>Second-hearing of the Albanians</i>—<i>Journey +to Marathon</i>—<i>Effect of his Adventures on the Mind of the +Poet</i>—<i>Return to Athens</i>—<i>I join the Travellers +there</i>—<i>Maid of Athens</i></p> +<p>From Keratéa the travellers proceeded to Cape Colonna, by +the way of Katapheke. The road was wild and rude, but the distant +view of the ruins of the temple of Minerva, standing on the loneliness +of the promontory, would have repaid them for the trouble, had the road +been even rougher.</p> +<p>This once elegant edifice was of the Doric order, a hexastyle, the +columns twenty-seven feet in height. It was built entirely of +white marble, and esteemed one of the finest specimens of architecture. +The rocks on which the remains stand are celebrated alike by the English +and the Grecian muses; for it was amid them that Falconer laid the scene +of his <i>Shipwreck</i>; and the unequalled description of the climate +of Greece, in <i>The Giaour</i>, was probably inspired there, although +the poem was written in London. It was also here, but not on this +occasion, that the poet first became acquainted with the Albanian belief +in second-hearing, to which he alludes in the same poem:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Deep in whose darkly-boding ear<br /> The +death-shot peal’d of murder near.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“This superstition of a second-hearing,” says Lord Byron, +“fell once under my own observation. On my third journey +to Cape Colonna, as we passed through the defile that leads from the +hamlet between Keratéa and Colonna, I observed Dervish Tahiri +(one of his Albanian servants) riding rather out of the path, and leaning +his head upon his hand as if in pain. I rode up and inquired. +‘We are in peril!’ he answered. ‘What peril? +we are not now in Albania, nor in the passes to Ephesus, Missolonghi, +or Lepanto; there are plenty of us well armed, and the Choriotes have +not courage to be thieves.’—‘True, Affendi; but, nevertheless, +the shot is ringing in my ears.’—‘The shot! not a +tophaike has been fired this morning.’—‘I hear it, +notwithstanding—bom—bom—as plainly as I hear your +voice.’—‘Bah.’—‘As you please, Affendi; +if it is written, so will it be.’</p> +<p>“I left this quick-eared predestinarian, and rode up to Basili, +his Christian compatriot, whose ears, though not at all prophetic, by +no means relished the intelligence. We all arrived at Colonna, +remained some hours, and returned leisurely, saying a variety of brilliant +things, in more languages than spoiled the building of Babel, upon the +mistaken seer; Romaic, Arnaout, Turkish, Italian, and English were all +exercised, in various conceits, upon the unfortunate Mussulman. +While we were contemplating the beautiful prospect, Dervish was occupied +about the columns. I thought he was deranged into an antiquarian, +and asked him if he had become a palaocastro man. ‘No,’ +said he, ‘but these pillars will be useful in making a stand’ +and added some remarks, which at least evinced his own belief in his +troublesome faculty of fore-hearing.</p> +<p>“On our return to Athens we heard from Leoné (a prisoner +set on shore some days after) of the intended attack of the Mainotes, +with the cause of its not taking place. I was at some pains to +question the man, and he described the dresses, arms, and marks of the +horses of our party so accurately, that, with other circumstances, we +could not doubt of his having been in ‘villainous company,’ +and ourselves in a bad neighbourhood. Dervish became a soothsayer +for life, and I dare say is now hearing more musketry than ever will +be fired, to the great refreshment of the Arnaouts of Berat and his +native mountains.</p> +<p>“In all Attica, if we except Athens itself, and Marathon,” +Byron remarks, “there is no scene more interesting than Cape Colonna. +To the antiquary and artist, sixteen columns are an inexhaustible source +of observation and design; to the philosopher the supposed scene of +some of Plato’s conversations will not be unwelcome; and the traveller +will be struck with the prospect over ‘Isles that crown the Ægean +deep.’ But, for an Englishman, Colonna has yet an additional +interest in being the actual spot of Falconer’s <i>Shipwreck</i>. +Pallas and Plato are forgotten in the recollection of Falconer and Campbell.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“There, in the dead of night, by Donna’s steep,<br />The +seamen’s cry was heard along the deep.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>From the ruins of the temple the travellers returned to Keratéa, +by the eastern coast of Attica, passing through that district of country +where the silver mines are situated; which, according to Sir George +Wheler, were worked with some success about a hundred and fifty years +ago. They then set out for Marathon, taking Rapthi in their way; +where, in the lesser port, on a steep rocky island, they beheld, from +a distance, the remains of a colossal statue. They did not, however, +actually inspect it, but it has been visited by other travellers, who +have described it to be of white marble, sedent on a pedestal. +The head and arms are broken off; but when entire, it is conjectured +to have been twelve feet in height. As they were passing round +the shore they heard the barking of dogs, and a shout from a shepherd, +and on looking round saw a large dun-coloured wolf, galloping slowly +through the bushes.</p> +<p>Such incidents and circumstances, in the midst of the most romantic +scenery of the world, with wild and lawless companions, and a constant +sense of danger, were full of poetry, and undoubtedly contributed to +the formation of the peculiar taste of Byron’s genius. As +it has been said of Salvator Rosa, the painter, that he derived the +characteristic savage force of his pencil from his youthful adventures +with banditti; it may be added of Byron, that much of his most distinguished +power was the result of his adventures as a traveller in Greece. +His mind and memory were filled with stores of the fittest imagery, +to supply becoming backgrounds and appendages, to the characters and +enterprises which he afterward depicted with such truth of nature and +poetical effect.</p> +<p>After leaving Rapthi, keeping Mount Pentilicus on the left, the travellers +came in sight of the ever-celebrated Plain of Marathon. The evening +being advanced, they passed the barrow of the Athenian slain unnoticed, +but next morning they examined minutely the field of battle, and fancied +they had made antiquarian discoveries. In their return to Athens +they inspected the different objects of research and fragments of antiquity, +which still attract travellers, and with the help of Chandler and Pausanias, +endeavoured to determine the local habitation and the name of many things, +of which the traditions have perished and the forms have relapsed into +rock.</p> +<p>Soon after their arrival at Athens, Mr Hobhouse left Lord Byron to +visit the Negropont, where he was absent some few days. I think +he had only been back three or four when I arrived from Zante. +My visit to Athens at that period was accidental. I had left Malta +with the intention of proceeding to Candia, by Specia, and Idra; but +a dreadful storm drove us up the Adriatic, as far as Valona; and in +returning, being becalmed off the Island of Zante, I landed there, and +allowed the ship, with my luggage, to proceed to her destination, having +been advised to go on by the Gulf of Corinth to Athens; from which place, +I was informed, there would be no difficulty in recovering my trunks.</p> +<p>In carrying this arrangement into effect, I was induced to go aside +from the direct route, and to visit Velhi Pasha, at Tripolizza, to whom +I had letters. Returning by Argos and Corinth, I crossed the isthmus, +and taking the road by Megara, reached Athens on the 20th of February. +In the course of this journey, I heard of two English travellers being +in the city; and on reaching the convent of the Propaganda, where I +had been advised to take up my lodgings, the friar in charge of the +house informed me of their names. Next morning, Mr Hobhouse, having +heard of my arrival, kindly called on me, and I accompanied him to Lord +Byron, who then lodged with the widow of a Greek, who had been British +Consul. She was, I believe, a respectable person, with several +daughters; one of whom has been rendered more famous by his Lordship’s +verses than her degree of beauty deserved. She was a pale and +pensive-looking girl, with regular Grecian features. Whether he +really cherished any sincere attachment to her I much doubt. I +believe his passion was equally innocent and poetical, though he spoke +of buying her from her mother. It was to this damsel that he addressed +the stanzas beginning,</p> +<p> Maid of Athens, ere we part,<br /> Give, +oh! give me back my heart.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Occupation at Athens</i>—<i>Mount Pentilicus</i>—<i>We +descend into the Caverns</i>—<i>Return to Athens</i>—<i>A +Greek Contract of Marriage</i>—<i>Various Athenian and Albanian +Superstitions</i>—<i>Effect of their Impression on the Genius +of the Poet</i></p> +<p>During his residence at Athens, Lord Byron made almost daily excursions +on horseback, chiefly for exercise and to see the localities of celebrated +spots. He affected to have no taste for the arts, and he certainly +took but little pleasure in the examination of the ruins.</p> +<p>The marble quarry of Mount Pentilicus, from which the materials for +the temples and principal edifices of Athens are supposed to have been +brought, was, in those days, one of the regular staple curiosities of +Greece. This quarry is a vast excavation in the side of the hill; +a drapery of woodbine hangs like the festoons of a curtain over the +entrance; the effect of which, seen from the outside, is really worth +looking at, but not worth the trouble of riding three hours over a road +of rude and rough fragments to see: the interior is like that of any +other cavern. To this place I one day was induced to accompany +the two travellers.</p> +<p>We halted at a monastery close by the foot of the mountain, where +we procured a guide, and ate a repast of olives and fried eggs. +Dr Chandler says that the monks, or caloyers, of this convent are summoned +to prayers by a tune which is played on a piece of an iron hoop; and, +on the outside of the church, we certainly saw a piece of crooked iron +suspended. When struck, it uttered a bell-like sound, by which +the hour of prayer was announced. What sort of tune could be played +on such an instrument the doctor has judiciously left his readers to +imagine.</p> +<p>When we reached the mouth of the grotto, by that “very bad +track” which the learned personage above mentioned clambered up, +we saw the ruins of the building which the doctor at first thought had +been possibly a hermit’s cell; but which, upon more deliberate +reflection, he became of opinion “was designed, perhaps, for a +sentinel to look out, and regulate, by signals, the approach of the +men and teams employed in carrying marble to the city.” +This, we agreed, was a very sagacious conjecture. It was, indeed, +highly probable that sentinels were appointed to regulate, by signals, +the manoeuvres of carts coming to fetch away stones.</p> +<p>Having looked at the outside of the quarry, and the guide having +lighted candles, we entered into the interior, and beheld on all sides +what Dr Chandler saw, “chippings of marble.” We then +descended, consecutively, into a hole, just wide enough to let a man +pass; and when we had descended far enough, we found ourselves in a +cell, or cave; it might be some ten or twelve feet square. Here +we stopped, and, like many others who had been there before us, attempted +to engrave our names. Mine was without success; Lord Byron’s +was not much better; but Mr Hobhouse was making some progress to immortality, +when the blade of his knife snapped, or shutting suddenly, cut his finger. +These attempts having failed, we inscribed our initials on the ceiling +with the smoke of our candles. After accomplishing this notable +feat, we got as well out of the scrape as we could, and returned to +Athens by the village of Callandris. In the evening, after dinner, +as there happened to be a contract of marriage performing in the neighbourhood, +we went to see the ceremony.</p> +<p>Between the contract and espousal two years are generally permitted +to elapse among the Greeks in the course of which the bride, according +to the circumstances of her relations, prepares domestic chattels for +her future family. The affections are rarely consulted on either +side, for the mother of the bridegroom commonly arranges the match for +her son. In this case, the choice had been evidently made according +to the principle on which Mrs Primrose chose her wedding gown; viz. +for the qualities that would wear well. For the bride was a stout +household quean; her face painted with vermilion, and her person arrayed +in uncouth embroidered garments. Unfortunately, we were disappointed +of seeing the ceremony, as it was over before we arrived.</p> +<p>This incident led me to inquire particularly into the existing usages +and customs of the Athenians; and I find in the notes of my journal +of the evening of that day’s adventures, a memorandum of a curious +practice among the Athenian maidens when they become anxious to get +husbands. On the first evening of the new moon, they put a little +honey, a little salt, and a piece of bread on a plate, which they leave +at a particular spot on the east bank of the Ilissus, near the Stadium, +and muttering some ancient words, to the effect that Fate may send them +a handsome young man, return home, and long for the fulfilment of the +charm. On mentioning this circumstance to the travellers, one +of them informed me, that above the spot where these offerings are made, +a statue of Venus, according to Pausanias, formerly stood. It +is, therefore, highly probable that what is now a superstitious, was +anciently a religious rite.</p> +<p>At this period my fellow-passengers were full of their adventures +in Albania. The country was new, and the inhabitants had appeared +to them a bold and singular race. In addition to the characteristic +descriptions which I have extracted from Lord Byron’s notes, as +well as Mr Hobhouse’s travels, I am indebted to them, as well +as to others, for a number of memoranda obtained in conversation, which +they have themselves neglected to record, but which probably became +unconsciously mingled with the recollections of both; at least, I can +discern traces of them in different parts of the poet’s works.</p> +<p>The Albanians are a race of mountaineers, and it has been often remarked +that mountaineers, more than any other people, are attached to their +native land, while no other have so strong a thirst of adventure. +The affection which they cherish for the scenes of their youth tends, +perhaps, to excite their migratory spirit. For the motive of their +adventures is to procure the means of subsisting in ease at home.</p> +<p>This migratory humour is not, however, universal to the Albanians, +but applies only to those who go in quest of rural employment, and who +are found in a state of servitude among even the Greeks. It deserves, +however, to be noticed, that with the Greeks they rarely ever mix or +intermarry, and that they retain both their own national dress and manners +unchanged among them. Several of their customs are singular. +It is, for example, in vain to ask a light or any fire from the houses +of the Albanians after sunset, if the husband or head of the family +be still afield; a custom in which there is more of police regulation +than of superstition, as it interdicts a plausible pretext for entering +the cottages in the obscurity of twilight, when the women are defenceless +by the absence of the men.</p> +<p>Some of their usages, with respect to births, baptisms, and burials, +are also curious. When the mother feels the fulness of time at +hand, the priestess of Lucina, the midwife, is duly summoned, and she +comes bearing in her hand a tripod, better known as a three-legged stool, +the uses of which are only revealed to the initiated. She is received +by the matronly friends of the mother, and begins the mysteries by opening +every lock and lid in the house. During this ceremony the maiden +females are excluded.</p> +<p>The rites which succeed the baptism of a child are still more recondite. +Four or five days after the christening, the midwife prepares, with +her own mystical hands, certain savoury messes, spreads a table, and +places them on it. She then departs, and all the family, leaving +the door open, in silence retire to sleep. This table is covered +for the Miri of the child, an occult being, that is supposed to have +the care of its destiny. In the course of the night, if the child +is to be fortunate, the Miri comes and partakes of the feast, generally +in the shape of a cat; but if the Miri do not come, nor taste of the +food, the child is considered to have been doomed to misfortune and +misery; and no doubt the treatment it afterwards receives is consonant +to its evil predestination.</p> +<p>The Albanians have, like the vulgar of all countries, a species of +hearth or household superstitions, distinct from their wild and imperfect +religion. They imagine that mankind, after death, become voorthoolakases, +and often pay visits to their friends and foes for the same reasons, +and in the same way, that our own country ghosts walk abroad; and their +visiting hour is, also, midnight. But the collyvillory is another +sort of personage. He delights in mischief and pranks, and is, +besides, a lewd and foul spirit; and, therefore, very properly detested. +He is let loose on the night of the nativity, with licence for twelve +nights to plague men’s wives; at which time some one of the family +must keep wakeful vigil all the livelong night, beside a clear and cheerful +fire, otherwise this naughty imp would pour such an aqueous stream on +the hearth, that fire could never be kindled there again.</p> +<p>The Albanians are also pestered with another species of malignant +creatures; men and women whose gifts are followed by misfortunes, whose +eyes glimpse evil, and by whose touch the most prosperous affairs are +blasted. They work their malicious sorceries in the dark, collect +herbs of baleful influence; by the help of which, they strike their +enemies with palsy, and cattle with distemper. The males are called +<i>maissi</i>, and the females <i>maissa</i>—witches and warlocks.</p> +<p>Besides these curious superstitious peculiarities, they have among +them persons who pretend to know the character of approaching events +by hearing sounds which resemble those that shall accompany the actual +occurrence. Having, however, given Lord Byron’s account +of the adventure of his servant Dervish, at Cape Colonna, it is unnecessary +to be more particular with the subject here. Indeed, but for the +great impression which everything about the Albanians made on the mind +of the poet, the insertion of these memoranda would be irrelevant. +They will, however, serve to elucidate several allusions, not otherwise +very clear, in those poems of which the scenes are laid in Greece; and +tend, in some measure, to confirm the correctness of the opinion, that +his genius is much more indebted to facts and actual adventures, than +to the force of his imagination. Many things regarded in his most +original productions, as fancies and invention, may be traced to transactions +in which he was himself a spectator or an actor. The impress of +experience is vivid upon them all.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XX</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Local Pleasures</i>—<i>Byron’s Grecian Poems</i>—<i>His +Departure from Athens</i>—<i>Description of Evening in</i> “<i>The +Corsair</i>”—<i>The Opening of</i> “<i>The Giaour</i>”—<i>State +of Patriotic Feeling then in Greece</i>—<i>Smyrna</i>—<i>Change +in Lord Byron’s Manners</i></p> +<p>The genii that preside over famous places have less influence on +the imagination than on the memory. The pleasures enjoyed on the +spot spring from the reminiscences of reading; and the subsequent enjoyment +derived from having visited celebrated scenes, comes again from the +remembrance of objects seen there, and the associations connected with +them.</p> +<p>A residence at Athens, day after day, is but little more interesting +than in a common country town: but afterwards, in reading either of +the ancient or of the modern inhabitants, it is surprising to find how +much local knowledge the memory had unconsciously acquired on the spot, +arising from the variety of objects to which the attention had been +directed.</p> +<p>The best of all Byron’s works, the most racy and original, +are undoubtedly those which relate to Greece; but it is only travellers +who have visited the scenes that can appreciate them properly. +In them his peculiar style and faculty are most eminent; in all his +other productions, imitation, even mere translation may be often traced, +and though, without question, everything he touched became transmuted +into something more beautiful and precious, yet he was never so masterly +as in describing the scenery of Greece, and Albanian manners. +In a general estimate of his works, it may be found that he has produced +as fine or finer passages than any in his Grecian poems; but their excellence, +either as respects his own, or the productions of others, is comparative. +In the Grecian poems he is only truly original; in them the excellence +is all his own, and they possess the rare and distinguished quality +of being as true to fact and nature, as they are brilliant in poetical +expression. <i>Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage</i> is the most +faithful descriptive poem which has been written since the <i>Odyssey</i>; +and the occasional scenes introduced into the other poems, when the +action is laid in Greece, are equally vivid and glowing.</p> +<p>When I saw him at Athens, the spring was still shrinking in the bud. +It was not until he returned from Constantinople in the following autumn, +that he saw the climate and country with those delightful aspects which +he has delineated with so much felicity in <i>The Giaour</i> and <i>The +Corsair</i>. It may, however, be mentioned, that the fine description +of a calm sunset, with which the third canto of <i>The Corsair</i> opens, +has always reminded me of the evening before his departure from Athens, +owing to the circumstance of my having, in the course of the day, visited +the spot which probably suggested the scene described.</p> +<p>It was the 4th of March, 1810; the <i>Pylades</i> sloop of war came +that morning into the Piræus, and landed Dr Darwin, a son of the +poet, with his friend, Mr Galton, who had come out in her for a cruise. +Captain Ferguson, her commander, was so kind as to offer the English +then in Athens, viz., Lord Byron, Mr Hobhouse, and myself, a passage +to Smyrna. As I had not received my luggage from Specia, I could +not avail myself of the offer, but the other two did: I accompanied +Captain Ferguson, however, and Dr Darwin, in a walk to the Straits of +Salamis; the ship, in the meantime, after landing them, having been +moored there.</p> +<p>It was one of those serene and cloudless days of the early spring, +when the first indications of leaf and blossom may just be discerned. +The islands slept, as it were, on their glassy couch, and a slight dun +haze hung upon the mountains, as if they too were drowsy. After +an easy walk of about two hours, passing through the olive groves, and +along the bottom of the hill on which Xerxes sat to view the battle, +we came opposite to a little cove near the ferry, and made a signal +to the ship for a boat. Having gone on board and partaken of some +refreshment, the boat then carried us back to the Piræus, where +we landed, about an hour before sundown—all the wide landscape +presenting at the time the calm and genial tranquillity which is almost +experienced anew in reading these delicious lines:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Slow sinks more lovely e’er his race be run,<br />Along Morea’s +hills, the setting sun<br />Not, as in northern climes, obscurely bright,<br />But +one unclouded blaze of living light.<br />O’er the hush’d +deep the yellow beam he throws,<br />Gilds the green wave that trembles +as it flows.<br />On old Egina’s rock, and Idra’s isle,<br />The +god of gladness sheds his parting smile;<br />O’er his own regions +lingering, loves to shine,<br />Though there his altars are no more +divine;—<br />Descending fast, the mountain shadows kiss<br />Thy +glorious gulf, unconquer’d Salamis!</p> +<p>Their azure arches, through the long expanse,<br />More deeply purpled +meet his mellowing glance,<br />And tenderest tints, along their summits +driven,<br />Mark his gay course, and own the hues of heaven;<br />Till +darkly shaded from the land and deep,<br />Behind his Delphian cliff +he sinks to sleep.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The opening of <i>The Giaour</i> is a more general description, but +the locality is distinctly marked by reference to the tomb above the +rocks of the promontory, commonly said to be that of Themistocles; and +yet the scene included in it certainly is rather the view from Cape +Colonna, than from the heights of Munychia.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>No breath of air to break the wave<br />That rolls below the Athenian’s +grave,<br />That tomb, which, gleaming o’er the cliff,<br />First +greets the homeward-veering skiff,<br />High o’er the land he +saved in vain—<br />When shall such hero live again!</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The environs of the Piræus were indeed, at that time, well +calculated to inspire those mournful reflections with which the poet +introduces the Infidel’s impassioned tale. The solitude, +the relics, the decay, and sad uses to which the pirate and the slave-dealer +had put the shores and waters so honoured by freedom, rendered a visit +to the Piræus something near in feeling to a pilgrimage.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Such is the aspect of this shore,<br /> ’Tis +Greece, but living Greece no more!<br /> So coldly +sweet, so deadly fair,<br /> We start, for soul is +wanting there.<br /> Hers is the loveliness in death,<br /> That +parts not quite with parting breath;<br /> But beauty +with that fearful bloom,<br /> That hue which haunts +it to the tomb,<br /> Expression’s last receding +ray,<br /> A gilded halo hov’ring round decay,<br /> The +farewell beam of feeling past away.<br />Spark of that flame, perchance +of heavenly birth,<br />Which gleams, but warms no more its cherish’d +earth.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>At that time Lord Byron, if he did pity the condition of the Greeks, +evinced very little confidence in the resurrection of the nation, even +although symptoms of change and reanimation were here and there perceptible, +and could not have escaped his observation. Greece had indeed +been so long ruined, that even her desolation was then in a state of +decay. The new cycle in her fortunes had certainly not commenced, +but it was manifest, by many a sign, that the course of the old was +concluding, and that the whole country felt the assuring auguries of +undivulged renovation. The influence of that period did not, however, +penetrate the bosom of the poet; and when he first quitted Athens, assuredly +he cared as little about the destinies of the Greeks, as he did for +those of the Portuguese and Spaniards, when he arrived at Gibraltar.</p> +<p>About three weeks or a month after he had left Athens, I went by +a circuitous route to Smyrna, where I found him waiting with Mr Hobhouse, +to proceed with the <i>Salsette</i> frigate, then ordered to Constantinople, +to bring away Mr Adair, the ambassador. He had, in the meantime, +visited Ephesus, and acquired some knowledge of the environs of Smyrna; +but he appeared to have been less interested by what he had seen there +than by the adventures of his Albanian tour. Perhaps I did him +injustice, but I thought he was also, in that short space, something +changed, and not with improvement. Towards Mr Hobhouse, he seemed +less cordial, and was altogether, I should say, having no better phrase +to express what I would describe, more of a Captain Grand than improved +in his manners, and more disposed to hold his own opinion than I had +ever before observed in him. I was particularly struck with this +at dinner, on the day after my arrival. We dined together with +a large party at the consul’s, and he seemed inclined to exact +a deference to his dogmas, that was more lordly than philosophical. +One of the naval officers present, I think the captain of the <i>Salsette</i>, +felt, as well as others, this overweening, and announced a contrary +opinion on some question connected with the politics of the late Mr +Pitt with so much firm good sense, that Lord Byron was perceptibly rebuked +by it, and became reserved, as if he deemed that sullenness enhanced +dignity. I never in the whole course of my acquaintance saw him +kithe so unfavourably as he did on that occasion. In the course +of the evening, however, he condescended to thaw, and before the party +broke up, his austerity began to leaf, and hide its thorns under the +influence of a relenting temperament. It was, however, too evident—at +least it was so to me—that without intending wrong, or any offence, +the unchecked humour of his temper was, by its caprices, calculated +to prevent him from ever gaining that regard to which his talents and +freer moods, independently of his rank, ought to have entitled him. +Such men become objects of solicitude, but never of esteem.</p> +<p>I was also on this occasion struck with another new phase in his +character; he seemed to be actuated by no purpose—he spoke no +more of passing “beyond Aurora and the Ganges,” but seemed +disposed to let the current of chances carry him as it might. +If he had any specific object in view, it was something that made him +hesitate between going home and returning to Athens when he should have +reached Constantinople, now become the ultimate goal of his intended +travels. To what cause this sudden and singular change, both in +demeanour and design, was owing, I was on the point of saying, it would +be fruitless to conjecture; but a letter to his mother, written a few +days before my arrival at Smyrna, throws some light on the sources of +his unsatisfied state. He appears by it to have been disappointed +of letters and remittances from his agent, and says:</p> +<p>“When I arrive at Constantinople, I shall determine whether +to proceed into Persia, or return—which latter I do not wish if +I can avoid it. But I have no intelligence from Mr H., and but +one letter from yourself. I shall stand in need of remittances, +whether I proceed or return. I have written to him repeatedly, +that he may not plead ignorance of my situation for neglect.”</p> +<p>Here is sufficient evidence that the cause of the undetermined state +of his mind, which struck me so forcibly, was owing to the incertitude +of his affairs at home; and it is easy to conceive that the false dignity +he assumed, and which seemed so like arrogance, was the natural effect +of the anxiety and embarrassment he suffered, and of the apprehension +of a person of his rank being, on account of his remittances, exposed +to require assistance among strangers. But as the scope of my +task relates more to the history of his mind, than of his private affairs, +I shall resume the narrative of his travels, in which the curiosity +of the reader ought to be more legitimately interested.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Smyrna</i>—<i>The Sport of the Djerid</i>—<i>Journey +to Ephesus</i>—<i>The dead City</i>—<i>The desolate Country</i>—<i>The +Ruins and Obliteration of the Temple</i>—<i>The slight Impression +of all on Byron</i></p> +<p>The passage in the <i>Pylades</i> from Athens to Smyrna was performed +without accident or adventure.</p> +<p>At Smyrna Lord Byron remained several days, and saw for the first +time the Turkish pastime of the Djerid, a species of tournament to which +he more than once alludes. I shall therefore describe the amusement.</p> +<p>The Musselim or Governor, with the chief agas of the city, mounted +on horses superbly caparisoned, and attended by slaves, meet, commonly +on Sunday morning, on their playground. Each of the riders is +furnished with one or two djerids, straight white sticks, a little thinner +than an umbrella-stick, less at one end than at the other and about +an ell in length, together with a thin cane crooked at the head. +The horsemen, perhaps a hundred in number, gallop about in as narrow +a space as possible, throwing the djerids at each other and shouting. +Each man then selects an opponent who has darted his djerid or is for +the moment without a weapon, and rushes furiously towards him, screaming +“Olloh! Olloh!” The other flies, looking behind +him, and the instant the dart is launched stoops downwards as low as +possible, or wields his horse with inconceivable rapidity, and picking +up a djerid with his cane, or taking one from a running slave, pursues +in his turn the enemy, who wheels on the instant he darts his weapon. +The greatest dexterity is requisite in these mimic battles to avoid +the concurrence of the “javelin-darting crowd,” and to escape +the random blows of the flying djerids.</p> +<p>Byron, having satisfied his curiosity with Smyrna, which is so like +every other Turkish town as to excite but little interest, set out with +Mr Hobhouse on the 13th of March, for Ephesus. As I soon after +passed along the same road, I shall here describe what I met with myself +in the course of the journey, it being probable that the incidents were +in few respects different from those which they encountered.</p> +<p>On ascending the heights after leaving Smyrna, the road was remarkable +in being formed of the broken relics of ancient edifices partly macadamised. +On the brow of the hill I met a numerous caravan of camels coming from +the interior of Asia. These ships of the desert, variously loaded, +were moving slowly to their port, and it seemed to me as I rode past +them, that the composed docile look of the animals possessed a sort +of domesticated grace which lessened the effect of their deformity.</p> +<p>A caravan, owing to the oriental dresses of the passengers and attendants, +with the numerous grotesque circumstances which it presents to the stranger, +affords an amusing spectacle. On the back of one camel three or +four children were squabbling in a basket; in another cooking utensils +were clattering; and from a crib on a third a young camel looked forth +inquiringly on the world: a long desultory train of foot-passengers +and cattle brought up the rear.</p> +<p>On reaching the summit of the hills behind Smyrna the road lies through +fields and cotton-grounds, well cultivated and interspersed with country +houses. After an easy ride of three or four hours I passed through +the ruins of a considerable Turkish town, containing four or five mosques, +one of them, a handsome building, still entire; about twenty houses +or so might be described as tenantable, but only a place of sepulchres +could be more awful: it had been depopulated by the plague—all +was silent, and the streets were matted with thick grass. In passing +through an open space, which reminded me of a market-place, I heard +the cuckoo with an indescribable sensation of pleasure mingled with +solemnity. The sudden presence of a raven at a bridal banquet +could scarcely have been a greater phantasma.</p> +<p>Proceeding briskly from this forsaken and dead city, I arrived in +the course of about half an hour at a coffee-house on the banks of a +small stream, where I partook of some refreshment in the shade of three +or four trees, on which several storks were conjugally building their +nests. While resting there, I became interested in their work, +and observed, that when any of their acquaintances happened to fly past +with a stick, they chattered a sort of How-d’ye-do to one another. +This civility was so uniformly and reciprocally performed, that the +politeness of the stork may be regarded as even less disputable than +its piety.</p> +<p>The road from that coffee-house lies for a mile or two along the +side of a marshy lake, the environs of which are equally dreary and +barren; an extensive plain succeeds, on which I noticed several broken +columns of marble, and the evident traces of an ancient causeway, which +apparently led through the water. Near the extremity of the lake +was another small coffee-house, with a burial-ground and a mosque near +it; and about four or five miles beyond I passed a spot, to which several +Turks brought a coffinless corpse, and laid it on the grass while they +silently dug a grave to receive it.</p> +<p>The road then ascended the hills on the south side of the plain, +of which the marshy lake was the centre, and passed through a tract +of country calculated to inspire only apprehension and melancholy. +Not a habitation nor vestige of living man was in sight, but several +cemeteries, with their dull funereal cypresses and tombstones served +to show that the country had once been inhabited.</p> +<p>Just as the earliest stars began to twinkle I arrived at a third +coffee-house on the roadside, with a little mosque before it, a spreading +beech tree for travellers to recline under in the spring, and a rude +shed for them in showers or the more intense sunshine of summer. +Here I rested for the night, and in the morning at daybreak resumed +my journey.</p> +<p>After a short ride I reached the borders of the plain of Ephesus, +across which I passed along a road rudely constructed, and raised above +the marsh, consisting of broken pillars, entablatures, and inscriptions, +at the end of which two other paths diverge; one strikes off to the +left, and leads over the Cayster by a bridge above the castle of Aiasaluk—the +other, leading to the right, or west, goes directly to Scala Nuova, +the ancient Neapolis. By the latter Byron and his friend proceeded +towards the ferry, which they crossed, and where they found the river +about the size of the Cam at Cambridge, but more rapid and deeper. +They then rode up the south bank, and about three o’clock in the +afternoon arrived at Aiasaluk, the miserable village which now represents +the city of Ephesus.</p> +<p>Having put up their beds in a mean khan, the only one in the town, +they partook of some cold provisions which they had brought with them +on a stone seat by the side of a fountain, on an open green near to +a mosque, shaded with tall cypresses. During their repast a young +Turk approached the fountain, and after washing his feet and hands, +mounted a flat stone, placed evidently for the purpose on the top of +the wall surrounding the mosque, and devoutly said his prayers, totally +regardless of their appearance and operations.</p> +<p>The remainder of the afternoon was spent in exploring the ruins of +Aiasaluk, and next morning they proceeded to examine those of the castle, +and the mouldering magnificence of Ephesus. The remains of the +celebrated temple of Diana, one of the wonders of the ancient world, +could not be satisfactorily traced; fragments of walls and arches, which +had been plated with marble, were all they could discover, with many +broken columns that had once been mighty in their altitude and strength: +several fragments were fifteen feet long, and of enormous circumference. +Such is the condition of that superb edifice, which was, in its glory, +four hundred and twenty feet long by two hundred and twenty feet broad, +and adorned with more than a hundred and twenty columns sixty feet high.</p> +<p>When the travellers had satisfied their curiosity, if that can be +called satisfaction which found no entire form, but saw only the rubbish +of desolation and the fragments of destruction, they returned to Smyrna.</p> +<p>The investigation of the ruins of Ephesus was doubtless interesting +at the time, but the visit produced no such impression on the mind of +Byron as might have been expected. He never directly refers to +it in his works: indeed, after Athens, the relics of Ephesus are things +but of small import, especially to an imagination which, like that of +the poet, required the action of living characters to awaken its dormant +sympathies.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Embarks for Constantinople</i>—<i>Touches at Tenedos</i>—<i>Visits +Alexandria</i>—<i>Trees</i>—<i>The Trojan Plain</i>—<i>Swims +the Hellespont</i>—<i>Arrival at Constantinople</i></p> +<p>On the 11th of April Lord Byron embarked at Smyrna, in the <i>Salsette</i> +frigate for Constantinople. The wind was fair during the night, +and at half past six next morning, the ship was off the Sygean promontory, +the north end of the ancient Lesbos or Mitylene. Having passed +the headland, north of the little town of Baba, she came in sight of +Tenedos, where she anchored, and the poet went on shore to view the +island.</p> +<p>The port was full of small craft, which in their voyage to the Archipelago +had put in to wait for a change of wind, and a crowd of Turks belonging +to these vessels were lounging about on the shore. The town was +then in ruins, having been burned to the ground by a Russian squadron +in the year 1807.</p> +<p>Next morning, Byron, with a party of officers, left the ship to visit +the ruins of Alexandria Troas, and landed at an open port, about six +or seven miles to the south of where the <i>Salsette</i> was at anchor. +The spot near to where they disembarked was marked by several large +cannon-balls of granite; for the ruins of Alexandria have long supplied +the fortresses of the Dardanelles with these gigantic missiles.</p> +<p>They rambled some time through the shaggy woods, with which the country +is covered, and the first vestiges of antiquity which attracted their +attention were two large granite sarcophagi; a little beyond they found +two or three fragments of granite pillars, one of them about twenty-five +feet in length, and at least five in diameter. Near these they +saw arches of brick-work, and on the east of them those magnificent +remains, to which early travellers have given the name of the palace +of Priam, but which are, in fact, the ruins of ancient baths. +An earthquake in the course of the preceding winter had thrown down +large portions of them, and the internal divisions of the edifice were, +in consequence, choked with huge masses of mural wrecks and marbles.</p> +<p>The visitors entered the interior through a gap, and found themselves +in the midst of enormous ruins, enclosed on two sides by walls, raised +on arches, and by piles of ponderous fragments. The fallen blocks +were of vast dimensions, and showed that no cement had been used in +the construction—an evidence of their great antiquity. In +the midst of this crushed magnificence stood several lofty portals and +arches, pedestals of gigantic columns and broken steps and marble cornices, +heaped in desolate confusion.</p> +<p>From these baths the distance to the sea is between two and three +miles—a gentle declivity covered with low woods, and partially +interspersed with spots of cultivated ground. On this slope the +ancient city of Alexandria Troas was built. On the north-west, +part of the walls, to the extent of a mile, may yet be traced; the remains +of a theatre are also still to be seen on the side of the hill fronting +the sea, commanding a view of Tenedos, Lemnos, and the whole expanse +of the Ægean.</p> +<p>Having been conducted by the guide, whom they had brought with them +from Tenedos, to the principal antiquities of Alexandria Troas, the +visitors returned to the frigate, which immediately after got under +way. On the 14th of April she came to anchor about a mile and +a half from Cape Janissary, the Sygean promontory, where she remained +about a fortnight; during which ample opportunity was afforded to inspect +the plain of Troy, that scene of heroism, which, for three thousand +years, has attracted the attention and interested the feelings and fancy +of the civilized world.</p> +<p>Whether Lord Byron entertained any doubt of Homer’s Troy ever +having existed, is not very clear. It is probable, from the little +he says on the subject, that he took no interest in the question. +For although no traveller could enter with more sensibility into the +local associations of celebrated places, he yet never seemed to care +much about the visible features of antiquity, and was always more inclined +to indulge in reflections than to puzzle his learning with dates or +dimensions. His ruminations on the Troad, in <i>Don Juan</i>, +afford an instance of this, and are conceived in the very spirit of +<i>Childe Harold.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>And so great names are nothing more than nominal,<br /> And +love of glory’s but an airy lust,<br />Too often in its fury overcoming +all<br /> Who would, as ’twere, identify their +dust<br />From out the wide destruction which, entombing all,<br /> Leaves +nothing till the coming of the just,<br />Save change. I’ve +stood upon Achilles’ tomb,<br />And heard Troy doubted—time +will doubt of Rome.</p> +<p>The very generations of the dead<br /> Are swept +away, and tomb inherits tomb,<br />Until the memory of an age is fled,<br /> And +buried, sinks beneath its offspring’s doom.<br />Where are the +epitaphs our fathers read,<br /> Save a few glean’d +from the sepulchral gloom,<br />Which once named myriads, nameless, +lie beneath,<br />And lose their own in universal death?</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>No task of curiosity can indeed be less satisfactory that the examination +of the sites of ancient cities; for the guides, not content with leading +the traveller to the spot, often attempt to mislead his imagination, +by directing his attention to circumstances which they suppose to be +evidence that verifies their traditions. Thus, on the Trojan plain, +several objects are still shown which are described as the self-same +mentioned in the <i>Iliad</i>. The wild fig-trees, and the tomb +of Ilus, are yet there—if the guides may be credited. But +they were seen with incredulous eyes by the poet; even the tomb of Achilles +appears to have been regarded by him with equal scepticism; still his +description of the scene around is striking, and tinted with some of +his happiest touches.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>There on the green and village-cotted hill is<br /> Flanked +by the Hellespont, and by the sea,<br />Entomb’d the bravest of +the brave, Achilles—<br /> They say so. +Bryant says the contrary.<br />And farther downward tall and towering +still is<br /> The tumulus, of whom Heaven knows it +may be,<br />Patroclus, Ajax, or Protesilaus,—<br />All heroes, +who, if living still, would slay us.</p> +<p>High barrows without marble or a name,<br /> A vast +untill’d and mountain-skirted plain,<br />And Ida in the distance +still the same,<br /> And old Scamander, if ’tis +he, remain;<br />The situation seems still form’d for fame,<br /> A +hundred thousand men might fight again<br />With ease. But where +I sought for Ilion’s walls<br />The quiet sheep feeds, and the +tortoise crawls.</p> +<p>Troops of untended horses; here and there<br /> Some +little hamlets, with new names uncouth,<br />Some shepherds unlike Paris, +led to stare<br /> A moment at the European youth,<br />Whom +to the spot their schoolboy feelings bear;<br /> A +Turk with beads in hand and pipe in mouth,<br />Extremely taken with +his own religion,<br />Are what I found there, but the devil a Phrygian.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>It was during the time that the <i>Salsette</i> lay off Cape Janissary +that Lord Byron first undertook to swim across the Hellespont. +Having crossed from the castle of Chanak-Kalessi, in a boat manned by +four Turks, he landed at five o’clock in the evening half a mile +above the castle of Chelit-Bauri, where, with an officer of the frigate +who accompanied him, they began their enterprise, emulous of the renown +of Leander. At first they swam obliquely upwards, rather towards +Nagara Point than the Dardanelles, but notwithstanding their skill and +efforts they made little progress. Finding it useless to struggle +with <a name="citation156"></a><a href="#footnote156">{156}</a> the +current, they then turned and went with the stream, still however endeavouring +to cross. It was not until they had been half an hour in the water, +and found themselves in the middle of the strait, about a mile and a +half below the castles, that they consented to be taken into the boat, +which had followed them. By that time the coldness of the water +had so benumbed their limbs that they were unable to stand, and were +otherwise much exhausted. The second attempt was made on the 3rd +of May, when the weather was warmer. They entered the water at +the distance of a mile and a-half above Chelit-Bauri, near a point of +land on the western bank of the Bay of Maito, and swam against the stream +as before, but not for so long a time. In less than half an hour +they came floating down the current close to the ship, which was then +anchored at the Dardanelles, and in passing her steered for the bay +behind the castle, which they soon succeeded in reaching, and landed +about a mile and a-half below the ship. Lord Byron has recorded +that he found the current very strong and the water cold; that some +large fish passed him in the middle of the channel, and though a little +chilled he was not fatigued, and performed the feat without much difficulty, +but not with impunity, for by the verses in which he commemorated the +exploit it appears he incurred the ague.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>WRITTEN AFTER SWIMMING FROM SESTOS TO ABYDOS</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>If in the month of dark December<br /> Leander who +was nightly wont<br />(What maid will not the tale remember)<br /> To +cross thy stream, broad Hellespont,</p> +<p>If when the wintry tempest roar’d<br /> He +sped to Hero nothing loath,<br />And thus of old thy current pour’d,<br /> Fair +Venus! how I pity both.</p> +<p>For me, degenerate modern wretch,<br /> Though in +the genial month of May,<br />My dripping limbs I faintly stretch,<br /> And +think I’ve done a feat to-day.</p> +<p>But since he crossed the rapid tide,<br /> According +to the doubtful story,<br />To woo, and—Lord knows what beside,<br /> And +swam for love as I for glory,</p> +<p>’Twere hard to say who fared the best;<br /> Sad +mortals thus the gods still plague you;<br />He lost his labour, I my +jest—<br /> For he was drown’d, and I’ve +the ague.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“The whole distance,” says his Lordship, “from +the place whence we started to our landing on the other side, including +the length we were carried by the current, was computed by those on +board the frigate at upwards of four English miles, though the actual +breadth is barely one. The rapidity of the current is such that +no boat can row directly across, and it may in some measure be estimated +from the circumstance of the whole distance being accomplished by one +of the parties in an hour and five, and by the other (Byron) in an hour +and ten minutes. The water was extremely cold from the melting +of the mountain snows. About three weeks before, in April, we +had made an attempt; but having ridden all the way from the Troad the +same morning, and the water being of an icy chilliness, we found it +necessary to postpone the completion till the frigate anchored below +the castles, when we swam the straits as just stated, entering a considerable +way above the European, and landing below the Asiatic fort. Chevallier +says that a young Jew swam the same distance for his mistress; and Oliver +mentions it having been done by a Neapolitan; but our consul (at the +Dardanelles), Tarragona, remembered neither of these circumstances, +and tried to dissuade us from the attempt. A number of the <i>Salsette’s</i> +crew were known to have accomplished a greater distance and the only +thing that surprised me was, that as doubts had been entertained of +the truth of Leander’s story, no traveller had ever endeavoured +to ascertain its practicability.”</p> +<p>While the <i>Salsette</i> lay off the Dardanelles, Lord Byron saw +the body of a man who had been executed by being cast into the sea, +floating on the stream, moving to and fro with the tumbling of the water, +which gave to his arms the effect of scaring away several sea-fowl that +were hovering to devour. This incident he has strikingly depicted +in <i>The Bride of Abydos.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The sea-birds shriek above the prey<br />O’er which their hungry +beaks delay,<br />As shaken on his restless pillow,<br />His head heaves +with the heaving billow;<br />That hand whose motion is not life,<br />Yet +feebly seems to menace strife,<br />Flung by the tossing tide on high,<br /> Then +levell’d with the wave—<br />What reeks it tho’ that +corse shall lie<br /> Within a living grave.<br />The +bird that tears that prostrate form<br />Hath only robb’d the +meaner worm.<br />The only heart, the only eye,<br />That bled or wept +to see him die,<br />Had seen those scatter’d limbs composed,<br /> And +mourned above his turban stone;<br />That heart hath burst—that +eye was closed—<br /> Yea—closed before +his own.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Between the Dardanelles and Constantinople no other adventure was +undertaken or befel the poet. On the 13th of May, the frigate +came to anchor at sunset, near the headland to the west of the Seraglio +Point; and when the night closed in, the silence and the darkness were +so complete “that we might have believed ourselves,” says +Mr Hobhouse, “moored in the lonely cove of some desert island, +and not at the foot of a city which, from its vast extent and countless +population, is fondly imagined by its present masters to be worthy to +be called ‘The Refuge of the World.’”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Constantinople</i>—<i>Description</i>—<i>The Dogs +and the Dead</i>—<i>Landed at Tophana</i>—<i>The Masterless +Dogs</i>—<i>The Slave Market</i>—<i>The Seraglio</i>—<i>The +Defects in the Description</i></p> +<p>The spot where the frigate came to anchor affords but an imperfect +view of the Ottoman capital. A few tall white minarets, and the +domes of the great mosques only are in sight, interspersed with trees +and mean masses of domestic buildings. In the distance, inland +on the left, the redoubted Castle of the Seven Towers is seen rising +above the gloomy walls; and, unlike every other European city, a profound +silence prevails over all. This remarkable characteristic of Constantinople +is owing to the very few wheel-carriages employed in the city. +In other respects the view around is lively, and in fine weather quickened +with innumerable objects in motion. In the calmest days the rippling +in the flow of the Bosphorus is like the running of a river. In +the fifth canto of <i>Don Juan</i>, Lord Byron has seized the principal +features, and delineated them with sparkling effect.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> The European with the Asian shore,<br /> Sprinkled +with palaces, the ocean stream<br /> Here and there +studded with a seventy-four,<br /> Sophia’s cupola +with golden gleam;<br /> The cypress groves; Olympus +high and hoar;<br /> The twelve isles, and the more +than I could dream,<br />Far less describe, present the very view<br />Which +charm’d the charming Mary Montague.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>In the morning, when his Lordship left the ship, the wind blew strongly +from the north-east, and the rushing current of the Bosphorus dashed +with great violence against the rocky projections of the shore, as the +captain’s boat was rowed against the stream.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The wind swept down the Euxine, and the wave<br />Broke foaming o’er +the blue Symplegades.<br />’Tis a grand sight, from off the giant’s +grave,<br />To watch the progress of those rolling seas<br />Between +the Bosphorus, as they lash and lave<br />Europe and Asia, you being +quite at ease.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“The sensations produced by the state of the weather, and leaving +a comfortable cabin, were,” says Mr Hobhouse, “in unison +with the impressions which we felt, when, passing under the palace of +the sultans, and gazing at the gloomy cypresses, which rise above the +walls, we saw two dogs gnawing a dead body.” The description +in <i>The Siege of Corinth</i> of the dogs devouring the dead, owes +its origin to this incident of the dogs and the body under the walls +of the seraglio.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>And he saw the lean dogs beneath the wall,<br />Hold o’er the +dead their carnival.<br />Gorging and growling o’er carcase and +limb,<br />They were too busy to bark at him.<br />From a Tartar’s +scull they had stripp’d the flesh,<br />As ye peel the fig when +its fruit is fresh,<br />And their white tusks crunched on the whiter +scull,<br />As it slipp’d through their jaws when their edge grew +dull.<br />As they lazily mumbled the bones of the dead,<br />When they +scarce could rise from the spot where they fed.<br />So well had they +broken a lingering fast,<br />With those who had fallen for that night’s +repast.<br />And Alp knew by the turbans that rolled on the sand,<br />The +foremost of these were the best of his band.<br />Crimson and green +were the shawls of their wear,<br />And each scalp had a single long +tuft of hair,<br />All the rest was shaven and bare.<br />The scalps +were in the wild dogs’ maw,<br />The hair was tangled round his +jaw.<br />But close by the shore on the edge of the gulf,<br />There +sat a vulture flapping a wolf,<br />Who had stolen from the hills but +kept away,<br />Scared by the dogs from the human prey;<br />But he +seized on his share of a steed that lay,<br />Pick’d by the birds +on the sands of the bay.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>This hideous picture is a striking instance of the uses to which +imaginative power may turn the slightest hint, and of horror augmented +till it reach that extreme point at which the ridiculous commences. +The whole compass of English poetry affords no parallel to this passage. +It even exceeds the celebrated catalogue of dreadful things on the sacramental +table in <i>Tam O’ Shanter</i>. It is true, that the revolting +circumstances described by Byron are less sublime in their associations +than those of Burns, being mere visible images, unconnected with ideas +of guilt, and unlike</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The knife a father’s throat had mangled,<br />Which his ain +son of life bereft:<br />The gray hairs yet stuck to the heft.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Nor is there in the vivid group of the vulture flapping the wolf, +any accessory to rouse stronger emotions, than those which are associated +with the sight of energy and courage, while the covert insinuation, +that the bird is actuated by some instigation of retribution in pursuing +the wolf for having run away with the bone, approaches the very point +and line where the horrible merges in the ludicrous. The whole +passage is fearfully distinct, and though in its circumstances, as the +poet himself says, “sickening,” is yet an amazing display +of poetical power and high invention.</p> +<p>The frigate sent the travellers on shore at Tophana, from which the +road ascends to Pera. Near this landing-place is a large fountain, +and around it a public stand of horses ready saddled, attended by boys. +On some of these Lord Byron and his friend, with the officers who had +accompanied them, mounted and rode up the steep hill, to the principal +Frank Hotel, in Pera, where they intended to lodge. In the course +of the ride their attention was attracted to the prodigious number of +masterless dogs which lounge and lurk about the corners of the streets; +a nuisance both dangerous and disagreeable, but which the Turks not +only tolerate but protect. It is no uncommon thing to see a litter +of puppies with their mother nestled in a mat placed on purpose for +them in a nook by some charitable Mussulman of the neighbourhood; for +notwithstanding their merciless military practices, the Turks are pitiful-hearted +Titans to dumb animals and slaves. Constantinople has, however, +been so often and so well described, that it is unnecessary to notice +its different objects of curiosity here, except in so far as they have +been contributory to the stores of the poet.</p> +<p>The slave market was of course not unvisited, but the description +in <i>Don Juan</i> is more indebted to the author’s fancy, than +any of those other bright reflections of realities to which I have hitherto +directed the attention of the reader. The market now-a-days is +in truth very uninteresting; few slaves are ever to be seen in it, and +the place itself has an odious resemblance to Smithfield. I imagine, +therefore, that the trade in slaves is chiefly managed by private bargaining. +When there, I saw only two men for sale, whites, who appeared very little +concerned about their destination, certainly not more than English rustics +offering themselves for hire to the farmers at a fair or market. +Doubtless, there was a time when the slave market of Constantinople +presented a different spectacle, but the trade itself has undergone +a change—the Christians are now interdicted from purchasing slaves. +The luxury of the guilt is reserved for the exclusive enjoyment of the +Turks. Still, as a description of things which may have been, +Byron’s market is probable and curious.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> A crowd of shivering slaves of every nation<br /> And +age and sex were in the market ranged,<br /> Each busy +with the merchant in his station.<br /> Poor creatures, +their good looks were sadly changed.</p> +<p> All save the blacks seem’d jaded with vexation,<br /> From +friends, and home, and freedom far estranged.<br />The negroes more +philosophy displayed,<br />Used to it no doubt, as eels are to be flayed.</p> +<p> Like a backgammon board, the place was dotted<br /> With +whites and blacks in groups, on show for sale,<br /> Though +rather more irregularly spotted;<br /> Some bought +the jet, while others chose the pale.</p> +<p> No lady e’er is ogled by a lover,<br /> Horse +by a black-leg, broadcloth by a tailor,<br /> Fee by +a counsel, felon by a jailer,</p> +<p> As is a slave by his intended bidder.<br /> ’Tis +pleasant purchasing our fellow-creatures,<br /> And +all are to be sold, if you consider<br /> Their passions, +and are dext’rous, some by features<br /> Are +bought up, others by a warlike leader;<br /> Some by +a place, as tend their years or natures;<br />The most by ready cash, +but all have prices,<br />From crowns to kicks, according to their vices.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The account of the interior of the seraglio in <i>Don Juan</i> is +also only probably correct, and may have been drawn in several particulars +from an inspection of some of the palaces, but the descriptions of the +imperial harem are entirely fanciful. I am persuaded, by different +circumstances, that Byron could not have been in those sacred chambers +of any of the seraglios. At the time I was in Constantinople, +only one of the imperial residences was accessible to strangers, and +it was unfurnished. The great seraglio was not accessible beyond +the courts, except in those apartments where the Sultan receives his +officers and visitors of state. Indeed, the whole account of the +customs and usages of the interior of the seraglio, as described in +<i>Don Juan</i>, can only be regarded as inventions; and though the +descriptions abound in picturesque beauty, they have not that air of +truth and fact about them which render the pictures of Byron so generally +valuable, independent of their poetical excellence. In those he +has given of the apartments of the men, the liveliness and fidelity +of his pencil cannot be denied; but the Arabian tales and <i>Vathek</i> +seem to have had more influence on his fancy in describing the imperial +harem, than a knowledge of actual things and appearances. Not +that the latter are inferior to the former in beauty, or are without +images and lineaments of graphic distinctness, but they want that air +of reality which constitutes the singular excellence of his scenes drawn +from nature; and there is a vagueness in them which has the effect of +making them obscure, and even fantastical. Indeed, except when +he paints from actual models, from living persons and existing things, +his superiority, at least his originality, is not so obvious; and thus +it happens, that his gorgeous description of the sultan’s seraglio +is like a versified passage of an Arabian tale, while the imagery of +Childe Harold’s visit to Ali Pasha has all the freshness and life +of an actual scene. The following is, indeed, more like an imitation +of <i>Vathek</i>, than anything that has been seen, or is in existence. +I quote it for the contrast it affords to the visit referred to, and +in illustration of the distinction which should be made between beauties +derived from actual scenes and adventures, and compilations from memory +and imagination, which are supposed to display so much more of creative +invention.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> And thus they parted, each by separate doors,<br /> Raba +led Juan onward, room by room,<br /> Through glittering +galleries and o’er marble floors,<br /> Till +a gigantic portal through the gloom<br /> Haughty and +huge along the distance towers,<br /> And wafted far +arose a rich perfume,<br />It seem’d as though they came upon +a shrine,<br />For all was vast, still, fragrant, and divine.</p> +<p> The giant door was broad and bright and high,<br /> Of +gilded bronze, and carved in curious guise;<br /> Warriors +thereon were battling furiously;<br /> Here stalks +the victor, there the vanquish’d lies;<br /> There +captives led in triumph droop the eye,<br /> And in +perspective many a squadron flies.<br />It seems the work of times before +the line<br />Of Rome transplanted fell with Constantine.</p> +<p> This massy portal stood at the wide close<br /> Of +a huge hall, and on its either side<br /> Two little +dwarfs, the least you could suppose,<br /> Were sate, +like ugly imps, as if allied<br /> In mockery to the +enormous gate which rose<br /> O’er them in almost +pyramidic pride.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIV</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Dispute with the Ambassador</i>—<i>Reflections on Byron’s +Pride of Rank</i>—<i>Abandons his Oriental Travels</i>—<i>Re-embarks +in the “Salsette”</i>—<i>The Dagger Scene</i>—<i>Zea</i>—<i>Returns +to Athens</i>—<i>Tour in the Morea</i>—<i>Dangerous Illness</i>—<i>Return +to Athens</i>—<i>The Adventure on which</i> “<i>The Giaour</i>” +<i>is founded</i></p> +<p>Although Lord Byron remained two months in Constantinople, and visited +every object of interest and curiosity within and around it, he yet +brought away with him fewer poetical impressions than from any other +part of the Ottoman dominions; at least he has made less use in his +works of what he saw and learned there, than of the materials he collected +in other places.</p> +<p>From whatever cause it arose, the self-abstraction which I had noticed +at Smyrna, was remarked about him while he was in the capital, and the +same jealousy of his rank was so nervously awake, that it led him to +attempt an obtrusion on the ambassadorial etiquettes—which he +probably regretted.</p> +<p>It has grown into a custom, at Constantinople, when the foreign ministers +are admitted to audiences of ceremony with the Sultan, to allow the +subjects and travellers of their respective nations to accompany them, +both to swell the pomp of the spectacle, and to gratify their curiosity. +Mr Adair, our ambassador, for whom the <i>Salsette</i> had been sent, +had his audience of leave appointed soon after Lord Byron’s arrival, +and his Lordship was particularly anxious to occupy a station of distinction +in the procession. The pretension was ridiculous in itself, and +showed less acquaintance with courtly ceremonies than might have been +expected in a person of his rank and intelligence. Mr Adair assured +him that he could obtain no particular place; that in the arrangements +for the ceremonial, only the persons connected with the embassy could +be considered, and that the Turks neither acknowledged the precedence, +nor could be requested to consider the distinctions of our nobility. +Byron, however, still persisted, and the minister was obliged to refer +him on the subject to the Austrian Internuncio, a high authority in +questions of etiquette, whose opinion was decidedly against the pretension.</p> +<p>The pride of rank was indeed one of the greatest weaknesses of Lord +Byron, and everything, even of the most accidental kind, which seemed +to come between the wind and his nobility, was repelled on the spot. +I recollect having some debate with him once respecting a pique of etiquette, +which happened between him and Sir William Drummond, somewhere in Portugal +or Spain. Sir William was at the time an ambassador (not, however, +I believe, in the country where the incident occurred), and was on the +point of taking precedence in passing from one room to another, when +Byron stepped in before him. The action was undoubtedly rude on +the part of his Lordship, even though Sir William had presumed too far +on his riband: to me it seemed also wrong; for, by the custom of all +nations from time immemorial, ambassadors have been allowed their official +rank in passing through foreign countries, while peers in the same circumstances +claim no rank at all; even in our own colonies it has been doubted if +they may take precedence of the legislative counsellors. But the +rights of rank are best determined by the heralds, and I have only to +remark, that it is almost inconceivable that such things should have +so morbidly affected the sensibility of Lord Byron; yet they certainly +did so, and even to a ridiculous degree. On one occasion, when +he lodged in St James’s Street, I recollect him rating the footman +for using a double knock in accidental thoughtlessness.</p> +<p>These little infirmities are, however, at most only calculated to +excite a smile; there is no turpitude in them, and they merit notice +but as indications of the humour of character. It was his Lordship’s +foible to overrate his rank, to grudge his deformity beyond reason, +and to exaggerate the condition of his family and circumstances. +But the alloy of such small vanities, his caprice and feline temper, +were as vapour compared with the mass of rich and rare ore which constituted +the orb and nucleus of his brilliancy.</p> +<p>He had not been long in Constantinople, when a change came over his +intentions; the journey to Persia was abandoned, and the dreams of India +were dissolved. The particular causes which produced this change +are not very apparent—but Mr Hobhouse was at the same time directed +to return home, and perhaps that circumstance had some influence on +his decision, which he communicated to his mother, informing her, that +he should probably return to Greece. As in that letter he alludes +to his embarrassment on account of remittances, it is probable that +the neglect of his agent, with respect to them, was the main cause which +induced him to determine on going no farther.</p> +<p>Accordingly, on the 14th of July, he embarked with Mr Hobhouse and +the ambassador on board the <i>Salsette</i>. It was in the course +of the passage to the island of Zea, where he was put on shore, that +one of the most emphatic incidents of his life occurred; an incident +which throws a remarkable gleam into the springs and intricacies of +his character—more, perhaps, than anything which has yet been +mentioned.</p> +<p>One day, as he was walking the quarter-deck, he lifted an ataghan +(it might be one of the midshipmen’s weapons), and unsheathing +it, said, contemplating the blade, “I should like to know how +a person feels after committing murder.” By those who have +inquiringly noticed the extraordinary cast of his metaphysical associations, +this dagger-scene must be regarded as both impressive and solemn; although +the wish to know how a man felt after committing murder does not imply +any desire to perpetrate the crime. The feeling might be appreciated +by experiencing any actual degree of guilt; for it is not the deed—the +sentiment which follows it makes the horror. But it is doing injustice +to suppose the expression of such a wish dictated by desire. Lord +Byron has been heard to express, in the eccentricity of conversation, +wishes for a more intense knowledge of remorse than murder itself could +give. There is, however, a wide and wild difference between the +curiosity that prompts the wish to know the exactitude of any feeling +or idea, and the direful passions that instigate to guilty gratifications.</p> +<p>Being landed, according to his request, with his valet, two Albanians, +and a Tartar, on the shore of Zea, it may be easily conceived that he +saw the ship depart with a feeling before unfelt. It was the first +time he was left companionless, and the scene around was calculated +to nourish stern fancies, even though there was not much of suffering +to be withstood.</p> +<p>The landing-place in the port of Zea, I recollect distinctly. +The port itself is a small land-locked gulf, or, as the Scottish Highlander +would call it, a loch. The banks are rocky and forbidding; the +hills, which rise to the altitude of mountains, have, in a long course +of ages, been always inhabited by a civilized people. Their precipitous +sides are formed into innumerable artificial terraces, the aspect of +which, austere, ruinous, and ancient, produces on the mind of the stranger +a sense of the presence of a greater antiquity than the sight of monuments +of mere labour and art. The town stands high upon the mountain, +I counted on the lower side of the road which leads to it forty-nine +of those terraces at one place under me, and on the opposite hills, +in several places, upwards of sixty. Whether Lord Byron ascended +to the town is doubtful. I have never heard him mention that he +had; and I am inclined to think that he proceeded at once to Athens +by one of the boats which frequent the harbour.</p> +<p>At Athens he met an old fellow-collegian, the Marquis of Sligo, with +whom he soon after travelled as far as Corinth; the Marquis turning +off there for Tripolizza, while Byron went forward to Patras, where +he had some needful business to transact with the consul. He then +made the tour of the Morea, in the course of which he visited the Vizier +Velhi Pasha, by whom he was treated, as every other English traveller +of the time was, with great distinction and hospitality.</p> +<p>Having occasion to go back to Patras, he was seized by the local +fever there, and reduced to death’s door. On his recovery +he returned to Athens, where he found the Marquis, with Lady Hester +Stanhope, and Mr Bruce, afterward so celebrated for his adventures in +assisting the escape of the French General Lavalette. He took +possession of the apartments which I had occupied in the monastery, +and made them his home during the remainder of his residence in Greece; +but when I returned to Athens, in October, he was not there himself. +I found, however, his valet, Fletcher, in possession.</p> +<p>There is no very clear account of the manner in which Lord Byron +employed himself after his return to Athens; but various intimations +in his correspondence show that during the winter his pen was not idle. +It would, however, be to neglect an important occurrence, not to notice +that during the time when he was at Athens alone, the incident which +he afterwards embodied in the impassioned fragments of <i>The Giaour</i> +came to pass; and to apprise the reader that the story is founded on +an adventure which happened to himself—he was, in fact, the cause +of the girl being condemned, and ordered to be sewn up in a sack and +thrown into the sea.</p> +<p>One day, as he was returning from bathing in the Piræus, he +met the procession going down to the shore to execute the sentence which +the Waywode had pronounced on the girl; and learning the object of the +ceremony, and who was the victim, he immediately interfered with great +resolution; for, on observing some hesitation on the part of the leader +of the escort to return with him to the Governor’s house, he drew +a pistol and threatened to shoot him on the spot. The man then +turned about, and accompanied him back, when, partly by bribery and +entreaty, he succeeded in obtaining a pardon for her, on condition that +she was sent immediately out of the city. Byron conveyed her to +the monastery, and on the same night sent her off to Thebes, where she +found a safe asylum.</p> +<p>With this affair, I may close his adventures in Greece; for, although +he remained several months subsequent at Athens, he was in a great measure +stationary. His health, which was never robust, was impaired by +the effects of the fever, which lingered about him; perhaps, too, by +the humiliating anxiety he suffered on account of the uncertainty in +his remittances. But however this may have been, it was fortunate +for his fame that he returned to England at the period he did, for the +climate of the Mediterranean was detrimental to his constitution. +The heat oppressed him so much as to be positive suffering, and scarcely +had he reached Malta on his way home, when he was visited again with +a tertian ague.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXV</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Arrival in London</i>—<i>Mr Dallas’s Patronage</i>—<i>Arranges +for the Publication of “Childe Harold”</i>—<i>The +Death of Mrs Byron</i>—<i>His Sorrow</i>—<i>His Affair with +Mr Moore</i>—<i>Their Meeting at Mr Rogers’s House, and +Friendship</i></p> +<p>Lord Byron arrived in London about the middle of July, 1811, having +been absent a few days more than two years. The embarrassed condition +in which he found his affairs sufficiently explains the dejection and +uneasiness with which he was afflicted during the latter part of his +residence in Greece; and yet it was not such as ought to have affected +him so deeply, nor have I ever been able to comprehend wherefore so +much stress has been laid on his supposed friendlessness. In respect +both to it and to his ravelled fortune, a great deal too much has been +too often said; and the manliness of his character has suffered by the +puling.</p> +<p>His correspondence shows that he had several friends to whom he was +much attached, and his disposition justifies the belief that, had he +not been well persuaded the attachment was reciprocal, he would not +have remained on terms of intimacy with them. And though for his +rank not rich, he was still able to maintain all its suitable exhibition. +The world could never regard as an object of compassion or of sympathy +an English noble, whose income was enough to support his dignity among +his peers, and whose poverty, however grievous to his pride, caused +only the privation of extravagance. But it cannot be controverted, +that there was an innate predilection in the mind of Lord Byron to mystify +everything about himself: he was actuated by a passion to excite attention, +and, like every other passion, it was often indulged at the expense +of propriety. He had the infirmity of speaking, though vaguely, +and in obscure hints and allusions, more of his personal concerns than +is commonly deemed consistent with a correct estimate of the interest +which mankind take in the cares of one another. But he lived to +feel and to rue the consequences: to repent he could not, for the cause +was in the very element of his nature. It was a blemish as incurable +as the deformity of his foot.</p> +<p>On his arrival in London, his relation, Mr Dallas, called on him, +and in the course of their first brief conversation his Lordship mentioned +that he had written a paraphrase of Horace’s <i>Art of Poetry</i>, +but said nothing then of <i>Childe Harold</i>, a circumstance which +leads me to suspect that he offered him the slighter work first, to +enjoy his surprise afterward at the greater. If so, the result +answered the intent. Mr Dallas carried home with him the paraphrase +of Horace, with which he was grievously disappointed; so much so, that +on meeting his Lordship again in the morning, and being reluctant to +speak of it as he really thought, he only expressed some surprise that +his noble friend should have produced nothing else during his long absence.</p> +<p>I can easily conceive the emphatic indifference, if my conjecture +be well founded, with which Lord Byron must have said to him, “I +have occasionally written short poems, besides a great many stanzas +in Spenser’s measure, relative to the countries I have visited: +they are not worth troubling you with, but you shall have them all with +you, if you like.”</p> +<p><i>Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage</i> was accordingly placed in +his hands; Mr Dallas took it home, and was not slow in discovering its +beauties, for in the course of the same evening he despatched a note +to his Lordship, as fair a specimen of the style of an elderly patronising +gentleman as can well be imagined: “You have written,” said +he, “one of the most delightful poems I ever read. If I +wrote this in flattery, I should deserve your contempt rather than your +friendship. I have been so fascinated with <i>Childe Harold</i>, +that I have not been able to lay it down; I would almost pledge my life +on its advancing the reputation of your poetical powers, and on its +gaining you great honour and regard, if you will do me the credit and +favour of attending to my suggestions.”</p> +<p>For some reason or another, Lord Byron, however, felt or feigned +great reluctance to publish <i>Childe Harold</i>. Possibly his +repugnance was dictated by diffidence, not with respect to its merits, +but from a consciousness that the hero of the poem exhibited traits +and resemblances of himself. It would indeed be injustice to his +judgment and taste, to suppose he was not sensible of the superiority +of the terse and energetic poetry which brightens and burns in every +stanza of the <i>Pilgrimage</i>, compared with the loose and sprawling +lines, and dull rhythm, of the paraphrase. It is true that he +alleged it had been condemned by a good critic—the only one who +had previously seen it—probably Mr Hobhouse, who was with him +during the time he was writing it; but still I cannot conceive he was +so blind to excellence, as to prefer in sincerity the other composition, +which was only an imitation. But the arguments of Mr Dallas prevailed +and in due season <i>Childe Harold</i> was prepared for the press.</p> +<p>In the meantime, while busily engaged in his literary projects with +Mr Dallas, and in law affairs with his agent, he was suddenly summoned +to Newstead by the state of his mother’s health: before he had +reached the Abbey she had breathed her last. The event deeply +affected him; he had not seen her since his return, and a presentiment +possessed her when they parted, that she was never to see him again.</p> +<p>Notwithstanding her violent temper and other unseemly conduct, her +affection for him had been so fond and dear, that he undoubtedly returned +it with unaffected sincerity; and from many casual and incidental expressions +which I have heard him employ concerning her, I am persuaded that his +filial love was not at any time even of an ordinary kind. During +her life he might feel uneasy respecting her, apprehensive on account +of her ungovernable passions and indiscretions, but the manner in which +he lamented her death, clearly proves that the integrity of his affection +had never been impaired.</p> +<p>On the night after his arrival at the Abbey, the waiting-woman of +Mrs Byron, in passing the door of the room where the corpse lay, heard +the sound of some one sighing heavily within, and on entering found +his Lordship sitting in the dark beside the bed. She remonstrated +with him for so giving way to grief, when he burst into tears, and exclaimed, +“I had but one friend in the world, and she is gone.” +Of the fervency of his sorrow I do therefore think there can be no doubt; +the very endeavour which he made to conceal it by indifference, was +a proof of its depth and anguish, though he hazarded the strictures +of the world by the indecorum of his conduct on the occasion of the +funeral. Having declined to follow the remains himself, he stood +looking from the hall door at the procession, till the whole had moved +away; and then, turning to one of the servants, the only person left, +he desired him to fetch the sparring-gloves, and proceeded with him +to his usual exercise. But the scene was impressive, and spoke +eloquently of a grieved heart; he sparred in silence all the time, and +the servant thought that he hit harder than was his habit: at last he +suddenly flung away the gloves and retired to his own room.</p> +<p>As soon as the funeral was over the publication of <i>Childe Harold</i> +was resumed, but it went slowly through the press. In the meantime, +an incident occurred to him which deserves to be noted—because +it is one of the most remarkable in his life, and has given rise to +consequences affecting his fame—with advantage.</p> +<p>In <i>English Bards and Scotch Reviewers</i>, he had alluded, with +provoking pleasantry, to a meeting which had taken place at Chalk Farm +some years before, between Mr Jeffrey, the Edinburgh reviewer, and Mr +Moore, without recollecting, indeed without having heard, that Mr Moore +had explained, through the newspapers, what was alleged to have been +ridiculous in the affair. This revival of the subject, especially +as it called in question the truth of Mr Moore’s statement, obliged +that gentleman to demand an explanation; but Lord Byron, being abroad, +did not receive this letter, and of course knew not of its contents, +so that, on his return, Mr Moore was induced to address his Lordship +again. The correspondence which ensued is honourable to the spirit +and feelings of both.</p> +<p>Mr Moore, after referring to his first letter, restated the nature +of the insult which the passage in the note to the poem was calculated +to convey, adding, “It is now useless to speak of the steps with +which it was my intention to follow up that letter, the time which has +elapsed since then, though it has done away neither the injury nor the +feeling of it, has, in many respects, materially altered my situation, +and the only object I have now in writing to your Lordship, is to preserve +some consistency with that former letter, and to prove to you that the +injured feeling still exists, however circumstances may compel me to +be deaf to its dictates at present. When I say ‘injured +feeling,’ let me assure your Lordship that there is not a single +vindictive sentiment in my mind towards you; I mean but to express that +uneasiness under what I consider to be a charge of falsehood, which +must haunt a man of any feeling to his grave, unless the insult be retracted, +or atoned for, and which, if I did not feel, I should indeed deserve +far worse than your Lordship’s satire could inflict upon me.” +And he concluded by saying, that so far from being influenced by any +angry or resentful feeling, it would give him sincere pleasure if, by +any satisfactory explanation, his Lordship would enable him to seek +the honour of being ranked among his acquaintance.</p> +<p>The answer of Lord Byron was diplomatic but manly. He declared +that he never received Mr Moore’s letter, and assured him that +in whatever part of the world it had reached him, he would have deemed +it his duty to return and answer it in person; that he knew nothing +of the advertisement to which Mr Moore had alluded, and consequently +could not have had the slightest idea of “giving the lie” +to an address which he had never seen. “When I put my name +to the production,” said his Lordship, “which has occasioned +this correspondence, I became responsible to all whom it might concern, +to explain where it requires explanation, and where insufficiently or +too sufficiently explicit, at all events to satisfy; my situation leaves +me no choice; it rests with the injured and the angry to obtain reparation +in their own way. With regard to the passage in question, <i>you</i> +were certainly <i>not</i> the person towards whom I felt personally +hostile: on the contrary, my whole thoughts were engrossed by one whom +I had reason to consider as my worst literary enemy, nor could I foresee +that his former antagonist was about to become his champion. You +do not specify what you would wish to have done. I can neither +retract nor apologize for a charge of falsehood which I never advanced.”</p> +<p>In reply, Mr Moore commenced by acknowledging that his Lordship’s +letter was upon the whole as satisfactory as he could expect; and after +alluding to specific circumstances in the case, concluded thus: “As +your Lordship does not show any wish to proceed beyond the rigid formulary +of explanation, it is not for me to make any farther advances. +We Irishmen, in business of this kind, seldom know any medium between +decided hostility and decided friendship. But as any approaches +towards the latter alternative must now depend entirely on your Lordship, +I have only to repeat that I am satisfied with your letter.” +Here the correspondence would probably, with most people, have been +closed, but Lord Byron’s sensibility was interested, and would +not let it rest. Accordingly, on the following day, he rejoined: +“Soon after my return to England, my friend Mr Hodgson apprised +me that a letter for me was in his possession; but a domestic event +hurrying me from London immediately after, the letter, which may most +probably be your own, is still unopened in his keeping. If, on +examination of the address, the similarity of the handwriting should +lead to such a conclusion, it shall be opened in your presence, for +the satisfaction of all parties. Mr H. is at present out of town; +on Friday I shall see him, and request him to forward it to my address. +With regard to the latter part of both your letters, until the principal +point was discussed between us, I felt myself at a loss in what manner +to reply. Was I to anticipate friendship from one who conceived +me to have charged him with falsehood? were not advances under such +circumstances to be misconstrued, not perhaps by the person to whom +they were addressed, but by others? In my case such a step was +impracticable. If you, who conceived yourself to be the offended +person, are satisfied that you had no cause for offence, it will not +be difficult to convince me of it. My situation, as I have before +stated, leaves me no choice. I should have felt proud of your +acquaintance had it commenced under other circumstances, but it must +rest with you to determine how far it may proceed after so <i>auspicious</i> +a beginning.”</p> +<p>Mr Moore acknowledges that he was somewhat piqued at the manner in +which his efforts towards a more friendly understanding were received, +and hastened to close the correspondence by a short note, saying that +his Lordship had made him feel the imprudence he was guilty of in wandering +from the point immediately in discussion between them. This drew +immediately from Lord Byron the following frank and openhearted reply:</p> +<p>“You must excuse my troubling you once more upon this very +unpleasant subject. It would be a satisfaction to me, and I should +think to yourself, that the unopened letter in Mr Hodgson’s possession +(supposing it to prove your own) should be returned <i>in statu quo</i> +to the writer, particularly as you expressed yourself ‘not quite +easy under the manner in which I had dwelt on its miscarriage.’</p> +<p>“A few words more and I shall not trouble you further. +I felt, and still feel, very much flattered by those parts of your correspondence +which held out the prospect of our becoming acquainted. If I did +not meet them, in the first instance, as perhaps I ought, let the situation +in which I was placed be my defence. You have <i>now</i> declared +yourself <i>satisfied</i>, and on that point we are no longer at issue. +If, therefore, you still retain any wish to do me the honour you hinted +at, I shall be most happy to meet you when, where, and how you please, +and I presume you will not attribute my saying thus much to any unworthy +motive.”</p> +<p>The result was a dinner at the house of Mr Rogers, the amiable and +celebrated author of <i>The Pleasures of Memory</i>, and the only guest +besides the two adversaries was Mr Campbell, author of <i>The Pleasures +of Hope</i>: a poetical group of four not easily to be matched, among +contemporaries in any age or country.</p> +<p>The meeting could not but be interesting, and Mr Moore has described +the effect it had on himself with a felicitous warmth, which showed +how much he enjoyed the party, and was pleased with the friendship that +ensued.</p> +<p>“Among the impressions,” says he, “which this meeting +left on me, what I chiefly remember to have remarked was, the nobleness +of his air, his beauty, the gentleness of his voice and manners, and—what +was naturally not the least attraction—his marked kindness for +myself. Being in mourning for his mother, the colour as well of +his dress as of his glossy, curling, and picturesque hair, gave more +effect to the pure spiritual paleness of his features, in the expression +of which, when he spoke, there was a perpetual play of lively thought, +though melancholy was their habitual character when in repose.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVI</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>The Libel in “The Scourge”</i>—<i>The general +Impression of his Character</i>—<i>Improvement in his Manners, +as his Merit was acknowledgement by the Public</i>—<i>His Address +in Management</i>—<i>His first Speech in Parliament</i>—<i>The +Publication of “Childe Harold”</i>—<i>Its Reception +and Effect</i></p> +<p>During the first winter after Lord Byron had returned to England, +I was frequently with him. <i>Childe Harold</i> was not then published; +and although the impression of his satire, <i>English Bards and Scotch +Reviewers</i>, was still strong upon the public, he could not well be +said to have been then a celebrated character. At that time the +strongest feeling by which he appeared to be actuated was indignation +against a writer in a scurrilous publication, called <i>The Scourge</i>; +in which he was not only treated with unjustifiable malignity, but charged +with being, as he told me himself, the illegitimate son of a murderer. +I had not read the work; but the writer who could make such an absurd +accusation, must have been strangely ignorant of the very circumstances +from which he derived the materials of his own libel. When Lord +Byron mentioned the subject to me, and that he was consulting Sir Vickery +Gibbs, with the intention of prosecuting the publisher and the author, +I advised him, as well as I could, to desist, simply because the allegation +referred to well-known occurrences. His grand-uncle’s duel +with Mr. Chaworth, and the order of the House of Peers to produce evidence +of his grandfather’s marriage with Miss Trevannion; the facts +of which being matter of history and public record, superseded the necessity +of any proceeding.</p> +<p>Knowing how deeply this affair agitated him at that time, I was not +surprised at the sequestration in which he held himself—and which +made those who were not acquainted with his shy and mystical nature, +apply to him the description of his own Lara:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The chief of Lara is return’d again,</p> +<p>And why had Lara cross’d the bounding main?—<br />Left +by his sire too young such loss to know,<br />Lord of himself; that +heritage of woe.<br />In him, inexplicably mix’d, appear’d<br />Much +to be loved and hated, sought and fear’d,<br />Opinion varying +o’er his hidden lot,<br />In praise or railing ne’er his +name forgot.<br />His silence form’d a theme for others’ +prate;<br />They guess’d, they gazed, they fain would know his +fate,<br />What had he been? what was he, thus unknown,<br />Who walk’d +their world, his lineage only known?<br />A hater of his kind? yet some +would say,<br />With them he could seem gay amid the gay;<br />But own’d +that smile, if oft observed and near<br />Waned in its mirth and wither’d +to a sneer;<br />That smile might reach his lip, but pass’d not +by;<br />None e’er could trace its laughter to his eye:<br />Yet +there was softness, too, in his regard,<br />At times a heart is not +by nature hard.<br />But once perceived, his spirit seem’d to +hide<br />Such weakness as unworthy of its pride,<br />And stretch’d +itself as scorning to redeem<br />One doubt from others’ half-withheld +esteem;<br />In self-inflicted penance of a breast<br />Which tenderness +might once have wrung from rest,<br />In vigilance of grief that would +compel<br />The soul to hate for having loved too well.<br />There was +in him a vital scorn of all,<br />As if the worst had fall’n which +could befall.<br />He stood a stranger in this breathing world,<br />An +erring spirit from another hurl’d;<br />A thing of dark imaginings, +that shaped<br />By choice the perils he by chance escaped.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Such was Byron to common observance on his return. I recollect +one night meeting him at the Opera. Seeing me with a gentleman +whom he did not know, and to whom he was unknown, he addressed me in +Italian, and we continued to converse for some time in that language. +My friend, who in the meanwhile had been observing him with curiosity, +conceiving him to be a foreigner, inquired in the course of the evening +who he was, remarking that he had never seen a man with such a Cain-like +mark on the forehead before, alluding to that singular scowl which struck +me so forcibly when I first saw him, and which appears to have made +a stronger impression upon me than it did upon many others. I +never, in fact, could overcome entirely the prejudice of the first impression, +although I ought to have been gratified by the friendship and confidence +with which he always appeared disposed to treat me. When <i>Childe +Harold</i> was printed, he sent me a quarto copy before the publication; +a favour and distinction I have always prized; and the copy which he +gave me of <i>The Bride of Abydos</i> was one he had prepared for a +new edition, and which contains, in his own writing, these six lines +in no other copy:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Bless’d—as the Muezzin’s strain from Mecca’s +wall<br />To pilgrims pure and prostrate at his call,<br />Soft—as +the melody of youthful days<br />That steals the trembling tear of speechless +praise,<br />Sweet—as his native song to exile’s ears<br />Shall +sound each tone thy long-loved voice endears.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>He had not, it is true, at the period of which I am speaking, gathered +much of his fame; but the gale was rising—and though the vessel +was evidently yielding to the breeze, she was neither crank nor unsteady. +On the contrary, the more he became an object of public interest, the +less did he indulge his capricious humour. About the time when +<i>The Bride of Abydos</i> was published, he appeared disposed to settle +into a consistent character—especially after the first sale of +Newstead. Before that particular event, he was often so disturbed +in his mind, that he could not conceal his unhappiness, and frequently +spoke of leaving England for ever.</p> +<p>Although few men were more under the impulses of passion than Lord +Byron, there was yet a curious kind of management about him which showed +that he was well aware how much of the world’s favour was to be +won by it. Long before <i>Childe Harold</i> appeared, it was generally +known that he had a poem in the press, and various surmises to stimulate +curiosity were circulated concerning it: I do not say that these were +by his orders, or under his directions, but on one occasion I did fancy +that I could discern a touch of his own hand in a paragraph in the <i>Morning +Post</i>, in which he was mentioned as having returned from an excursion +into the interior of Africa; and when I alluded to it, my suspicion +was confirmed by his embarrassment.</p> +<p>I mention this incident not in the spirit of detraction; for in the +paragraph there was nothing of puff, though certainly something of oddity—but +as a tint of character, indicative of the appetite for distinction by +which, about this period, he became so powerfully incited, that at last +it grew into a diseased crave, and to such a degree, that were the figure +allowable, it might be said, the mouth being incapable of supplying +adequate means to appease it—every pore became another mouth greedy +of nourishment. I am, however, hastening on too fast. Lord +Byron was, at that time, far indeed from being ruled by any such inordinate +passion; the fears, the timidity, and bashfulness of young desire still +clung to him, and he was throbbing with doubt if he should be found +worthy of the high prize for which he was about to offer himself a candidate. +The course he adopted on the occasion, whether dictated by management, +or the effect of accident, was, however, well calculated to attract +attention to his <i>début</i> as a public man.</p> +<p>When <i>Childe Harold</i> was ready for publication, he determined +to make his first appearance as an orator in the House of Lords: the +occasion was judiciously chosen, being a debate on the Nottingham frame-breaking +bill; a subject on which it was natural to suppose he possessed some +local knowledge that might bear upon a question directed so exclusively +against transactions in his own county. He prepared himself as +the best orators do in their first essays, not only by composing, but +writing down, the whole of his speech beforehand. The reception +he met with was flattering; he was complimented warmly by some of the +speakers on his own side; but it must be confessed that his <i>début</i> +was more showy than promising. It lacked weight in metal, as was +observed at the time, and the mode of delivery was more like a schoolboy’s +recital than a masculine grapple with an argument. It was, moreover, +full of rhetorical exaggerations, and disfigured with conceits. +Still it scintillated with talent, and justified the opinion that he +was an extraordinary young man, probably destined to distinction, though +he might not be a statesman.</p> +<p>Mr Dallas gives a lively account of his elation on the occasion. +“When he left the great chamber,” says that gentleman, “I +went and met him in the passage; he was glowing with success, and much +agitated. I had an umbrella in my right hand, not expecting that +he would put out his hand to me; in my haste to take it when offered, +I had advanced my left hand: ‘What!’ said he, ‘give +your friend your left hand upon such an occasion?’ I showed +the cause, and immediately changing the umbrella to the other, I gave +him my right hand, which he shook and pressed warmly. He was greatly +elated, and repeated some of the compliments which had been paid him, +and mentioned one or two of the peers who had desired to be introduced +to him. He concluded by saying, that he had, by his speech, given +me the best advertisement for <i>Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage</i>.”</p> +<p>It is upon this latter circumstance, that I have ventured to state +my suspicion, that there was a degree of worldly management in making +his first appearance in the House of Lords, so immediately preceding +the publication of his poem. The speech was, indeed, a splendid +advertisement, but the greater and brighter merits of the poem soon +proved that it was not requisite, for the speech made no impression, +but the poem was at once hailed with delight and admiration. It +filled a vacancy in the public mind, which the excitement and inflation +arising from the mighty events of the age, had created. The world, +in its condition and circumstances, was prepared to receive a work, +so original, vigorous, and beautiful; and the reception was such that +there was no undue extravagance in the noble author saying in his memorandum, +“I awoke one morning and found myself famous.”</p> +<p>But he was not to be allowed to revel in such triumphant success +with impunity. If the great spirits of the time were smitten with +astonishment at the splendour of the rising fire, the imps and elves +of malignity and malice fluttered their bat-wings in all directions. +Those whom the poet had afflicted in his satire, and who had remained +quietly crouching with lacerated shoulders in the hope that their flagellation +would be forgotten, and that the avenging demon who had so punished +their imbecility would pass away, were terrified from their obscurity. +They came like moths to the candle, and sarcasms in the satire which +had long been unheeded, in the belief that they would soon be forgotten, +were felt to have been barbed with irremediable venom, when they beheld +the avenger</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Towering in his pride of place.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Sketches of Character</i>—<i>His Friendly Dispositions</i>—<i>Introduce +Prince K</i>—<i>to him</i>—<i>Our last Interview</i>—<i>His +continued Kindness towards me</i>—<i>Instance of it to one of +my Friends.</i></p> +<p>For some time after the publication of <i>Childe Harold</i>, the +noble author appeared to more advantage than I ever afterwards saw him. +He was soothed by success; and the universal applause which attended +his poem seemed to make him think more kindly of the world, of which +he has too often complained, while it would be difficult to discover, +in his career and fortunes, that he had ever received any cause from +it to justify his complaint.</p> +<p>At no time, I imagine, could it be said that Lord Byron was one of +those men who interest themselves in the concerns of others. He +had always too much to do with his own thoughts about himself, to afford +time for the consideration of aught that was lower in his affections. +But still he had many amiable fits, and at the particular period to +which I allude, he evinced a constancy in the disposition to oblige, +which proved how little self-control was wanting to have made him as +pleasant as he was uniformly interesting. I felt this towards +myself in a matter which had certainly the grace of condescension in +it, at the expense of some trouble to him. I then lived at the +corner of Bridge Street, Westminster, and in going to the House of Lords +he frequently stopped to inquire if I wanted a frank. His conversation, +at the same time, was of a milder vein, and with the single exception +of one day, while dining together at the St Alban’s, it was light +and playful, as if gaiety had become its habitude.</p> +<p>Perhaps I regarded him too curiously, and more than once it struck +me that he thought so. For at times, when he was in his comfortless +moods, he has talked of his affairs and perplexities as if I had been +much more acquainted with them than I had any opportunity of being. +But he was a subject for study, such as is rarely met with—at +least, he was so to me; for his weaknesses were as interesting as his +talents, and he often indulged in expressions which would have been +blemishes in the reflections of other men, but which in him often proved +the germs of philosophical imaginings. He was the least qualified +for any sort of business of all men I have ever known; so skinless in +sensibility as respected himself, and so distrustful in his universal +apprehensions of human nature, as respected others. It was, indeed, +a wild, though a beautiful, error of nature, to endow a spirit with +such discerning faculties, and yet render it unfit to deal with mankind. +But these reflections belong more properly to a general estimate of +his character, than to the immediate purpose before me, which was principally +to describe the happy effects which the splendid reception of <i>Childe +Harold</i> had on his feelings; effects which, however, did not last +long. He was gratified to the fullness of his hopes; but the adulation +was enjoyed to excess, and his infirmities were aggravated by the surfeit. +I did not, however, see the progress of the change, as in the course +of the summer I went to Scotland, and soon after again abroad. +But on my return, in the following spring, it was very obvious.</p> +<p>I found him, in one respect, greatly improved; there was more of +a formed character about him; he was evidently, at the first glance, +more mannered, or endeavouring to be so, and easier with the proprieties +of his rank; but he had risen in his own estimation above the honours +so willingly paid to his genius, and was again longing for additional +renown. Not content with being acknowledged as the first poet +of the age, and a respectable orator in the House of Lords, he was aspiring +to the <i>éclat</i> of a man of gallantry; so that many of the +most ungracious peculiarities of his temper, though brought under better +discipline, were again in full activity.</p> +<p>Considering how much he was then caressed, I ought to have been proud +of the warmth with which he received me. I did not, however, so +often see him as in the previous year; for I was then on the eve of +my marriage, and I should not so soon, after my return to London, have +probably renewed my visits, but a foreign nobleman of the highest rank, +who had done me the honour to treat me as a friend, came at that juncture +to this country, and knowing I had been acquainted with Lord Byron, +he requested me to introduce him to his Lordship. This rendered +a visit preliminary to the introduction necessary; and so long as my +distinguished friend remained in town, we again often met. But +after he left the country my visits became few and far between; owing +to nothing but that change in a man’s pursuits and associates +which is one among some of the evils of matrimony. It is somewhat +remarkable, that of the last visit I ever paid him, he has made rather +a particular memorandum. I remember well, that it was in many +respects an occasion not to be at once forgotten; for, among other things, +after lighter topics, he explained to me a variety of tribulations in +his affairs, and I urged him, in consequence, to marry, with the frankness +which his confidence encouraged; subjoining certain items of other good +advice concerning a <i>liaison</i> which he was supposed to have formed, +and which Mr Moore does not appear to have known, though it was much +talked of at the time.</p> +<p>During that visit the youthful peculiarities of his temper and character +showed all their original blemish. But, as usual, when such was +the case, he was often more interesting than when in his discreeter +moods. He gave me the copy of <i>The Bride of Abydos</i>, with +a very kind inscription on it, which I have already mentioned; but still +there was an impression on my mind that led me to believe he could not +have been very well pleased with some parts of my counselling. +This, however, appears not to have been the case; on the contrary, the +tone of his record breathes something of kindness; and long after I +received different reasons to believe his recollection of me was warm +and friendly.</p> +<p>When he had retired to Genoa, I gave a gentleman a letter to him, +partly that I might hear something of his real way of life, and partly +in the hope of gratifying my friend by the sight of one of whom he had +heard so much. The reception from his Lordship was flattering +to me; and, as the account of it contains what I think a characteristic +picture, the reader will, I doubt not, be pleased to see so much of +it as may be made public without violating the decorum which should +always be observed in describing the incidents of private intercourse, +when the consent of all parties cannot be obtained to the publication.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p><i>Edinburgh</i>, <i>June</i> 3, 1830.</p> +<p>“DEAR GALT,—Though I shall always retain a lively general +recollection of my agreeable interview with Lord Byron, at Genoa, in +May, 1823, so long a time has since elapsed that much of the aroma of +the pleasure has evaporated, and I can but recall generalities. +At that time there was an impression in Genoa that he was averse to +receive visits from Englishmen, and I was indeed advised not to think +of calling on him, as I might run the risk of meeting with a savage +reception. However, I resolved to send your note, and to the surprise +of every one the messenger brought a most polite answer, in which, after +expressing the satisfaction of hearing of his old friend and fellow-traveller, +he added that he would do himself the honour of calling on me the next +day, which he accordingly did; but owing to the officious blundering +of an Italian waiter, who mentioned I was at dinner, his Lordship sent +up his card with his compliments that he would not <i>deranger</i> the +party. I was determined, however, that he should not escape me +in this way, and drove out to his residence next morning, when, upon +his English valet taking up my name, I was immediately admitted.</p> +<p>“As every one forms a picture to himself of remarkable characters, +I had depicted his Lordship in my mind as a tall, sombre, <i>Childe +Harold</i> personage, tinctured somewhat with aristocratic hauteur. +You may therefore guess my surprise when the door opened, and I saw +leaning upon the lock, a light animated figure, rather <i>petite</i> +than otherwise, dressed in a nankeen hussar-braided jacket, trousers +of the same material, with a white waistcoat; his countenance pale but +the complexion clear and healthful, with the hair coming down in little +curls on each side of his fine forehead.</p> +<p>“He came towards me with an easy cheerfulness of manner, and +after some preliminary inquiries concerning yourself, we entered into +a conversation which lasted two hours, in the course of which I felt +myself perfectly at ease, from his Lordship’s natural and simple +manners; indeed, so much so, that, forgetting all my anticipations, +I found myself conversing with him with as fluent an intercourse of +mind as I ever experienced, even with yourself.</p> +<p>“It is impossible for me at present to overtake a detail of +what passed, but as it produced a kind of scene, I may mention one incident.</p> +<p>“Having remarked that in a long course of desultory reading, +I had read most of what had been said by English travellers concerning +Italy; yet, on coming to it I found there was no country of which I +had less accurate notions: that among other things I was much struck +with the harshness of the language. He seemed to jerk at this, +and immediately observed, that perhaps in going rapidly through the +country, I might not have had many opportunities of hearing it politely +spoken. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘there are supposed +to be nineteen dialects of the Italian language, and I shall let you +hear a lady speak the principal of them, who is considered to do it +very well.’ I pricked up my ears at hearing this, as I considered +it would afford me an opportunity of seeing the far-famed Countess Guiccioli. +His Lordship immediately rose and left the apartment, returning in the +course of a minute or two leading in the lady, and while arranging chairs +for the trio, he said to me, ‘I shall make her speak each of the +principal dialects, but you are not to mind how I pronounce, for I do +not speak Italian well.’ After the scene had been performed +he resumed to me, ‘Now what do you think?’ To which +I answered, that my opinion still remained unaltered. He seemed +at this to fall into a little revery, and then said, abruptly, ‘Why +’tis very odd, Moore thought the same.’ ‘Does +your Lordship mean Tom Moore?’ ‘Yes.’ +‘Ah, then, my Lord, I shall adhere with more pertinacity to my +opinion, when I hear that a man of his exquisite taste in poetry and +harmony was also of that opinion.’</p> +<p>“You will be asking what I thought of the lady; I had certainly +heard much of her high personal attractions, but all I can say is, that +in my eyes her graces did not rank above mediocrity. They were +youth, plumpness, and good-nature.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXVIII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>A Miff with Lord Byron</i>—<i>Remarkable Coincidences</i>—<i>Plagiarisms +of his Lordship</i></p> +<p>There is a curious note in the memoranda which Lord Byron kept in +the year 1813, that I should not pass unnoticed, because it refers to +myself, and moreover is characteristic of the excoriated sensibility +with which his Lordship felt everything that touched or affected him +or his.</p> +<p>When I had read <i>The Bride of Abydos</i>, I wrote to him my opinion +of it, and mentioned that there was a remarkable coincidence in the +story, with a matter in which I had been interested. I have no +copy of the letter, and I forget the expressions employed, but Lord +Byron seemed to think they implied that he had taken the story from +something of mine.</p> +<p>The note is:</p> +<p>“Galt says there is a coincidence between the first part of +<i>The Bride</i> and some story of his, whether published or not, I +know not, never having seen it. He is almost the last person on +whom any one would commit literary larceny, and I am not conscious of +any witting thefts on any of the genus. As to originality, all +pretensions are ludicrous; there is nothing new under the sun.”</p> +<p>It is sufficiently clear that he was offended with what I had said, +and was somewhat excited. I have not been able at present to find +his answer to my letter, but it would appear by the subjoined that he +had written to me something which led me to imagine he was offended +at my observations, and that I had in consequence deprecated his wrath.</p> +<p>“<i>Dec</i>. 11, 1813.</p> +<p>“MY DEAR GALT,—There was no offence—there <i>could</i> +be none. I thought it by no means impossible that we might have +hit on something similar, particularly as you are a dramatist, and was +anxious to assure you of the truth, viz. that I had not wittingly seized +upon plot, sentiment, or incident; and I am very glad that I have not +in any respect trenched upon your subjects. Something still more +singular is, that the <i>first</i> part, where you have found a coincidence +in some events within your observations on <i>life</i>, was <i>drawn</i> +from <i>observation</i> of mine also, and I meant to have gone on with +the story, but on <i>second</i> thoughts, I thought myself <i>two centuries</i> +at least too late for the subject; which, though admitting of very powerful +feeling and description, yet is not adapted for this age, at least this +country. Though the finest works of the Greeks, one of Schiller’s +and Alfieri’s, in modern times, besides several of our <i>old</i> +(and best) dramatists, have been grounded on incidents of a similar +cast, I therefore altered it as you perceive, and in so doing have weakened +the whole, by interrupting the train of thought; and in composition +I do not think <i>second</i> thoughts are the best, though <i>second</i> +expressions may improve the first ideas.</p> +<p>“I do not know how other men feel towards those they have met +abroad, but to me there seems a kind of tie established between all +who have met together in a foreign country, as if we had met in a state +of pre-existence, and were talking over a life that has ceased; but +I always look forward to renewing my travels; and though <i>you</i>, +I think, are now stationary, if I can at all forward your pursuits <i>there</i> +as well as here, I shall be truly glad in the opportunity. Ever +yours very sincerely,</p> +<p>“B.</p> +<p>“P.S. I believe I leave town for a day or two on Monday, +but after that I am always at home, and happy to see you till half-past +two.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>This letter was dated on Saturday, the 11th of December, 1813. +On Sunday, the 12th, he made the following other note in his memorandum +book:</p> +<p>“By Galt’s answer, I find it is some story in <i>real</i> +life, and not any work with which my late composition coincides. +It is still more singular, for mine is drawn from <i>existence</i> also.”</p> +<p>The most amusing part of this little fracas is the denial of his +Lordship, as to pilfering the thoughts and fancies of others; for it +so happens, that the first passage of <i>The Bride of Abydos</i>, the +poem in question, is almost a literal and unacknowledged translation +from Goethe, which was pointed out in some of the periodicals soon after +the work was published.</p> +<p>Then, as to his not thieving from me or mine, I believe the fact +to be as he has stated; but there are singular circumstances connected +with some of his other productions, of which the account is at least +curious.</p> +<p>On leaving England I began to write a poem in the Spenserian measure. +It was called <i>The Unknown</i>, and was intended to describe, in narrating +the voyages and adventures of a pilgrim, who had embarked for the Holy +Land, the scenes I expected to visit. I was occasionally engaged +in this composition during the passage with Lord Byron from Gibraltar +to Malta, and he knew what I was about. In stating this, I beg +to be distinctly understood, as in no way whatever intending to insinuate +that this work had any influence on the composition of <i>Childe Harold’s +Pilgrimage</i>, which Lord Byron began to write in Albania; but it must +be considered as something extraordinary, that the two works should +have been so similar in plan, and in the structure of the verse. +His Lordship never saw my attempt that I know of, nor did I his poem +until it was printed. It is needless to add, that beyond the plan +and verse there was no other similarity between the two works; I wish +there had been.</p> +<p>His Lordship has published a poem, called <i>The Curse of Minerva</i>, +the subject of which is the vengeance of the goddess on Lord Elgin for +the rape of the Parthenon. It has so happened that I wrote at +Athens a burlesque poem on nearly the same subject (mine relates to +the vengeance of all the gods) which I called <i>The Atheniad</i>; the +manuscript was sent to his Lordship in Asia Minor, and returned to me +through Mr Hobhouse. His <i>Curse of Minerva</i>, I saw for the +first time in 1828, in Galignani’s edition of his works.</p> +<p>In <i>The Giaour</i>, which he published a short time before <i>The +Bride of Abydos</i>, he has this passage, descriptive of the anxiety +with which the mother of Hassan looks out for the arrival of her son:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The browsing camels’ bells are tinkling—<br /> His +mother look’d from her lattice high;<br />She saw the dews of +eve besprinkling<br /> The parterre green beneath her +eye:<br />She saw the planets faintly twinkling—<br /> ’Tis +twilight—sure his train is nigh.<br />She could not rest in the +garden bower,<br />But gazed through the grate of his steepest tower:<br />Why +comes he not—and his steeds are fleet—<br />Nor shrink they +from the summer heat?<br />Why sends not the bridegroom his promised +gift;<br />Is his heart more cold or his barb less swift?</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>His Lordship was well read in the Bible, and the book of Judges, +chap. 5, and verse 28, has the following passage:—</p> +<p>“The mother of Sisera looked out at a window, and cried through +the lattice, Why is his chariot so long in coming; why tarry the wheels +of his chariot?”</p> +<p>It was, indeed, an early trick of his Lordship to filch good things. +In the lamentation for Kirke White, in which he compares him to an eagle +wounded by an arrow feathered from his own wing, he says,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>So the struck eagle, stretch’d upon the plain,<br />No more +through rolling clouds to soar again,<br />View’d his own feather +on the fatal dart<br />And winged the shaft that quivered in his heart.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The ancients have certainly stolen the best ideas of the moderns; +this very thought may be found in the works of that ancient-modern, +Waller:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>That eagle’s fate and mine are one,<br /> Which +on the shaft that made him die,<br />Espied a feather of his own<br /> Wherewith +he wont to soar on high.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>His Lordship disdained to commit any larceny on me; and no doubt +the following passage from <i>The Giaour</i> is perfectly original:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>It is as if the dead could feel<br />The icy worm around them steal;<br />And +shudder as the reptiles creep<br />To revel o’er their rotting +sleep,<br />Without the power to scare away<br />The cold consumers +of their clay.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>I do not claim any paternity in these lines: but not the most judicious +action of all my youth was to publish certain dramatic sketches, and +his Lordship had the printed book in his possession long before <i>The +Giaour</i> was published, and may have read the following passage in +a dream, which was intended to be very hideous:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Then did I hear around<br />The churme and chirruping +of busy reptiles<br />At hideous banquet on the royal dead:—<br />Full +soon methought the loathsome epicures<br />Came thick on me, and underneath +my shroud<br />I felt the many-foot and beetle creep,<br />And on my +breast the cold worm coil and crawl.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>However, I have said quite enough on this subject, both as respects +myself and his seeming plagiarisms, which might be multiplied to legions. +Such occasional accidental imitations are not things of much importance. +All poets, and authors in general, avail themselves of their reading +and knowledge to enhance the interest of their works. It can only +be considered as one of Lord Byron’s spurts of spleen, that he +felt so much about a “coincidence,” which ought not to have +disturbed him; but it may be thought by the notice taken of it, that +it disturbs myself more than it really does; and that it would have +been enough to have merely said—Perhaps, when some friend is hereafter +doing as indulgently for me, the same kind of task that I have undertaken +for Byron, there may be found among my memoranda notes as little flattering +to his Lordship, as those in his concerning me. I hope, however, +that friend will have more respect for my memory than to imitate the +taste of Mr Moore.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXIX</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Lord Byron in 1813</i>—<i>The Lady’s Tragedy</i>—<i>Miss +Milbanke</i>—<i>Growing Uneasiness of Lord Byron’s Mind</i>—<i>The +Friar’s Ghost</i>—<i>The Marriage</i>—<i>A Member +of the Drury Lane Committee</i>—<i>Embarrassed Affairs</i>—<i>The +Separation</i></p> +<p>The year 1813 was perhaps the period of all Lord Byron’s life +in which he was seen to most advantage. The fame of <i>Childe +Harold</i> was then in its brightest noon; and in that year he produced +<i>The Giaour</i> and <i>The Bride of Abydos</i>—compositions +not only of equal power, but even tinted with superior beauties. +He was himself soothed by the full enjoyment of his political rank and +station; and though his manners and character had not exactly answered +to the stern and stately imaginations which had been formed of his dispositions +and appearance, still he was acknowledged to be no common man, and his +company in consequence was eagerly courted.</p> +<p>It forms no part of the plan of this work to repeat the gossip and +tattle of private society, but occurrences happened to Lord Byron which +engaged both, and some of them cannot well be passed over unnoticed. +One of these took place during the spring of this year, and having been +a subject of newspaper remark, it may with less impropriety be mentioned +than others which were more indecorously made the topics of general +discussion. The incident alluded to was an extravagant scene enacted +by a lady of high rank, at a rout given by Lady Heathcote; in which, +in revenge, as it was reported, for having been rejected by Lord Byron, +she made a suicidal attempt with an instrument, which scarcely penetrated, +if it could even inflict any permanent mark on, the skin.</p> +<p>The insane attachment of this eccentric lady to his Lordship was +well known; insane is the only epithet that can be applied to the actions +of a married woman, who, in the disguise of her page, flung herself +to a man, who, as she told a friend of mine, was ashamed to be in love +with her because she was not beautiful—an expression at once curious +and just, evincing a shrewd perception of the springs of his Lordship’s +conduct, and the acuteness blended with frenzy and talent which distinguished +herself. Lord Byron unquestionably at that time cared little for +her. In showing me her picture, some two or three days after the +affair, and laughing at the absurdity of it, he bestowed on her the +endearing diminutive of vixen, with a hard-hearted adjective that I +judiciously omit.</p> +<p>The immediate cause of this tragical flourish was never very well +understood; but in the course of the evening she had made several attempts +to fasten on his Lordship, and was shunned: certain it is, she had not, +like Burke in the House of Commons, premeditatedly brought a dagger +in her reticule, on purpose for the scene; but, seeing herself an object +of scorn, she seized the first weapon she could find—some said +a pair of scissors—others, more scandalously, broken jelly-glass, +and attempted an incision of the jugular, to the consternation of all +the dowagers, and the pathetic admiration of every Miss who witnessed +or heard of the rapture.</p> +<p>Lord Byron at the time was in another room, talking with Prince K—, +when Lord P— came, with a face full of consternation, and told +them what had happened. The cruel poet, instead of being agitated +by the tidings, or standing in the smallest degree in need of a smelling-bottle, +knitted his scowl, and said, with a contemptuous indifference, “It +is only a trick.” All things considered, he was perhaps +not uncharitable; and a man of less vanity would have felt pretty much +as his Lordship appeared to do on the occasion. The whole affair +was eminently ridiculous; and what increased the absurdity was a letter +she addressed to a friend of mine on the subject, and which he thought +too good to be reserved only for his own particular study.</p> +<p>It was in this year that Lord Byron first proposed for Miss Milbanke; +having been urged by several of his friends to marry, that lady was +specially recommended to him for a wife. It has been alleged, +that he deeply resented her rejection of his proposal; and I doubt not, +in the first instance, his vanity may have been a little piqued; but +as he cherished no very animated attachment to her, and moreover, as +she enjoyed no celebrity in public opinion to make the rejection important, +the resentment was not, I am persuaded, either of an intense or vindictive +kind. On the contrary, he has borne testimony to the respect in +which he held her character and accomplishments; and an incidental remark +in his journal, “I shall be in love with her again, if I don’t +take care,” is proof enough that his anger was not of a very fierce +or long-lived kind.</p> +<p>The account ascribed to him of his introduction to Miss Milbanke, +and the history of their attachment, ought not to be omitted, because +it serves to illustrate, in some degree, the state of his feelings towards +her, and is so probable, that I doubt not it is in the main correct:—</p> +<p>“The first time of my seeing Miss Milbanke was at Lady ***’s. +It was a fatal day; and I remember, that in going upstairs I stumbled, +and remarked to Moore, who accompanied me, that it was a bad omen. +I ought to have taken the warning. On entering the room, I observed +a young lady more simply dressed than the rest of the assembly sitting +alone upon a sofa. I took her for a female companion, and asked +if I was right in my conjecture. ‘She is a great heiress,’ +said he, in a whisper, that became lower as he proceeded, ‘you +had better marry her, and repair the old place, Newstead.’</p> +<p>“There was something piquant, and what we term pretty, in Miss +Milbanke. Her features were small and feminine, though not regular. +She had the fairest skin imaginable. Her figure was perfect for +her height, and there was a simplicity, a retired modesty about her, +which was very characteristic, and formed a happy contrast to the cold +artificial formality and studied stiffness which is called fashion. +She interested me exceedingly. I became daily more attached to +her, and it ended in my making her a proposal, that was rejected. +Her refusal was couched in terms which could not offend me. I +was, besides, persuaded, that in declining my offer, she was governed +by the influence of her mother; and was the more confirmed in my opinion, +by her reviving our correspondence herself twelve months after. +The tenour of her letter was, that, although she could not love me, +she desired my friendship. Friendship is a dangerous word for +young ladies; it is love full-fledged, and waiting for a fine day to +fly.”</p> +<p>But Lord Byron possessed this sort of irrepressible predilections—was +so much the agent of impulses, that he could not keep long in unison +with the world, or in harmony with his friends. Without malice, +or the instigation of any ill spirit, he was continually provoking malignity +and revenge. His verses on the Princess Charlotte weeping, and +his other merciless satire on her father, begot him no friends, and +armed the hatred of his enemies. There was, indeed, something +like ingratitude in the attack on the Regent, for his Royal Highness +had been particularly civil; had intimated a wish to have him introduced +to him; and Byron, fond of the distinction, spoke of it with a sense +of gratification. These instances, as well as others, of gratuitous +spleen, only justified the misrepresentations which had been insinuated +against himself, and what was humour in his nature, was ascribed to +vice in his principles.</p> +<p>Before the year was at an end, his popularity was evidently beginning +to wane: of this he was conscious himself, and braved the frequent attacks +on his character and genius with an affectation of indifference, under +which those who had at all observed the singular associations of his +recollections and ideas, must have discerned the symptoms of a strange +disease. He was tainted with a Herodian malady of the mind: his +thoughts were often hateful to himself; but there was an ecstasy in +the conception, as if delight could be mingled with horror. I +think, however, he struggled to master the fatality, and that his resolution +to marry was dictated by an honourable desire to give hostages to society, +against the wild wilfulness of his imagination.</p> +<p>It is a curious and a mystical fact, that at the period to which +I am alluding, and a very short time, only a little month, before he +successfully solicited the hand of Miss Milbanke, being at Newstead, +he fancied that he saw the ghost of the monk which is supposed to haunt +the abbey, and to make its ominous appearance when misfortune or death +impends over the master of the mansion.—The story of the apparition +in the sixteenth canto of <i>Don Juan</i> is derived from this family +legend, and Norman Abbey, in the thirteenth of the same poem, is a rich +and elaborate description of Newstead.</p> +<p>After his proposal to Miss Milbanke had been accepted, a considerable +time, nearly three months, elapsed before the marriage was completed, +in consequence of the embarrassed condition in which, when the necessary +settlements were to be made, he found his affairs. This state +of things, with the previous unhappy controversy with himself, and anger +at the world, was ill-calculated to gladden his nuptials: but, besides +these real evils, his mind was awed with gloomy presentiments, a shadow +of some advancing misfortune darkened his spirit, and the ceremony was +performed with sacrificial feelings, and those dark and chilling circumstances, +which he has so touchingly described in <i>The Dream</i>:—</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> I saw him stand<br />Before an +altar with a gentle bride;<br />Her face was fair, but was not that +which made<br />The starlight of his boyhood:—as he stood<br />Even +at the altar, o’er his brow there came<br />The self-same aspect, +and the quivering shock<br />That in the antique oratory shook<br />His +bosom in its solitude; and then—<br />As in that hour—a +moment o’er his face<br />The tablet of unutterable thoughts<br />Was +traced—and then it faded as it came,<br />And he stood calm and +quiet, and he spoke<br />The faltering vows, but heard not his own words,<br />And +all things reeled around him: he could see<br />Not that which was, +nor that which should have been—<br />But the old mansion and +the accustom’d hall,<br />And the remembered chambers, and the +place,<br />The day, the hour, the sunshine and the shade,<br />All +things pertaining to that place and hour.<br />And her, who was his +destiny, came back,<br />And thrust themselves between him and the light.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>This is very affectingly described; and his prose description bears +testimony to its correctness. “It had been predicted by +Mrs Williams that twenty-seven was to be a dangerous age for me. +The fortune-telling witch was right; it was destined to prove so. +I shall never forget the 2nd of January, 1815, Lady Byron was the only +unconcerned person present; Lady Noel, her mother, cried; I trembled +like a leaf, made the wrong responses, and after the ceremony called +her Miss Milbanke.</p> +<p>“There is a singular history attached to the ring. The +very day the match was concluded a ring of my mother’s, that had +been lost, was dug up by the gardener at Newstead. I thought it +was sent on purpose for the wedding; but my mother’s marriage +had not been a fortunate one, and this ring was doomed to be the seal +of an unhappier union still.</p> +<p>“After the ordeal was over, we set off for a country-scat of +Sir Ralph’s (Lady B.’s father), and I was surprised at the +arrangements for the journey, and somewhat out of humour, to find the +lady’s maid stuck between me and my bride. It was rather +too early to assume the husband; so I was forced to submit, but it was +not with a very good grace. I have been accused of saying, on +getting into the carriage, that I had married Lady Byron out of spite, +and because she had refused me twice. Though I was for a moment +vexed at her prudery, or whatever you may choose to call it, if I had +made so uncavalier, not to say brutal, a speech, I am convinced Lady +Byron would instantly have left the carriage to me and the maid. +She had spirit enough to have done so, and would properly have resented +the affront. Our honeymoon was not all sunshine; it had its clouds.</p> +<p>“I was not so young when my father died, but that I perfectly +remember him, and had a very early horror of matrimony from the sight +of domestic broils: this feeling came over me very strongly at my wedding. +Something whispered me that I was sealing my own death-warrant. +I am a great believer in presentiments: Socrates’s demon was not +a fiction; Monk Lewis had his monitor, and Napoleon many warnings. +At the last moment I would have retreated, could I have done so; I called +to mind a friend of mine, who had married a young, beautiful, and rich +girl, and yet was miserable; he had strongly urged me against putting +my neck in the same yoke.”</p> +<p>For some time after the marriage things went on in the usual matrimonial +routine, until he was chosen into the managing committee of Drury Lane; +an office in which, had he possessed the slightest degree of talent +for business, he might have done much good. It was justly expected +that the illiterate presumption which had so long deterred poetical +genius from approaching the stage, would have shrunk abashed from before +him; but he either felt not the importance of the duty he had been called +to perform, or, what is more probable, yielding to the allurements of +the moment, forgot that duty, in the amusement which he derived from +the talents and peculiarities of the players. No situation could +be more unfit for a man of his temperament, than one which exposed him +to form intimacies with persons whose profession, almost necessarily, +leads them to undervalue the domestic virtues.</p> +<p>It is said, that the course of life into which he was drawn after +he joined the managing committee of Drury Lane was not in unison with +the methodical habits of Lady Byron. But independently of outdoor +causes of connubial discontent and incompatibility of temper, their +domestic affairs were falling into confusion.</p> +<p>“My income at this period,” says Lord Byron, “was +small, and somewhat bespoken. We had a house in town, gave dinner-parties, +had separate carriages, and launched into every sort of extravagance. +This could not last long; my wife’s ten thousand pounds soon melted +away. I was beset by duns, and at length an execution was levied, +and the bailiffs put in possession of the very beds we had to sleep +on. This was no very agreeable state of affairs, no very pleasant +scene for Lady Byron to witness; and it was agreed she should pay her +father a visit till the storm had blown over, and some arrangement had +been made with my creditors.” From this visit her Ladyship +never returned; a separation took place; but too much has been said +to the world respecting it, and I have no taste for the subject. +Whatever was the immediate cause, the event itself was not of so rare +a kind as to deserve that the attention of the public should be indelicately +courted to it.</p> +<p>Beyond all question, however, Lord Byron’s notions of connubial +obligations were rather philosophical. “There are,” +said he to Captain Parry, “so many undefinable and nameless, and +not to be named, causes of dislike, aversion, and disgust in the matrimonial +state, that it is always impossible for the public, or the friends of +the parties, to judge between man and wife. Theirs is a relation +about which nobody but themselves can form a correct idea, or have any +right to speak. As long as neither party commits gross injustice +towards the other; as long as neither the woman nor the man is guilty +of any offence which is injurious to the community; as long as the husband +provides for his offspring, and secures the public against the dangers +arising from their neglected education, or from the charge of supporting +them; by what right does it censure him for ceasing to dwell under the +same roof with a woman, who is to him, because he knows her, while others +do not, an object of loathing? Can anything be more monstrous, +than for the public voice to compel individuals who dislike each other +to continue their cohabitation? This is at least the effect of +its interfering with a relationship, of which it has no possible means +of judging. It does not indeed drag a man to a woman’s bed +by physical force, but it does exert a moral force continually and effectively +to accomplish the same purpose. Nobody can escape this force, +but those who are too high or those who are too low for public opinion +to reach; or those hypocrites who are, before others, the loudest in +their approbation of the empty and unmeaning forms of society, that +they may securely indulge all their propensities in secret.”</p> +<p>In the course of the conversation, in which he is represented to +have stated these opinions, he added what I have pleasure in quoting, +because the sentiments are generous in respect to his wife, and strikingly +characteristic of himself:—</p> +<p>“Lady Byron has a liberal mind, particularly as to religious +opinions: and I wish when I married her that I had possessed the same +command over myself that I now do. Had I possessed a little more +wisdom and more forbearance, we might have been happy. I wished, +when I was just married to have remained in the country, particularly +till my pecuniary embarrassments were over. I knew the society +of London; I knew the characters of many who are called ladies, with +whom Lady Byron would necessarily have to associate, and I dreaded her +contact with them. But I have too much of my mother about me to +be dictated to; I like freedom from constraint; I hate artificial regulations: +my conduct has always been dictated by my own feelings, and Lady Byron +was quite the creature of rules. She was not permitted either +to ride, or run, or walk, but as the physician prescribed. She +was not suffered to go out when I wished to go: and then the old house +was a mere ghost-house, I dreamed of ghosts and thought of them waking. +It was an existence I could not support.” Here Lord Byron +broke off abruptly, saying, “I hate to speak of my family affairs, +though I have been compelled to talk nonsense concerning them to some +of my butterfly visitors, glad on any terms to get rid of their importunities. +I long to be again on the mountains. I am fond of solitude, and +should never talk nonsense, if I always found plain men to talk to.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXX</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Reflections on his domestic Verses</i>—<i>Consideration +of his Works</i>—<i>“The Corsair”</i>—<i>Probabilities +of the Character and Incidents of the Story</i>—<i>On the Difference +between poetical Invention and moral Experience: illustrated by the +Difference between the Genius of Shakespeare and that of Byron</i></p> +<p>The task just concluded may disappoint the expectations of some of +my readers, but I would rather have said less than so much, could so +little have been allowed; for I have never been able to reconcile to +my notions of propriety, the exposure of domestic concerns which the +world has no right claim to know, and can only urge the plea of curiosity +for desiring to see explained. The scope of my undertaking comprehends +only the public and intellectual character of Lord Byron; every word +that I have found it necessary to say respecting his private affairs +has been set down with reluctance; nor should I have touched so freely +on his failings, but that the consequences have deeply influenced his +poetical conceptions.</p> +<p>There is, however, one point connected with his conjugal differences +which cannot be overlooked, nor noticed without animadversion. +He was too active himself in bespeaking the public sympathy against +his lady. It is true that but for that error the world might never +have seen the verses written by him on the occasion; and perhaps it +was the friends who were about him at the time who ought chiefly to +be blamed for having given them circulation: but in saying this, I am +departing from the rule I had prescribed to myself, while I ought only +to have remarked that the compositions alluded to, both the <i>Fare-thee-well</i> +and the <i>Anathema on Mrs Charlemont</i>, are splendid corroborations +of the metaphysical fact which it is the main object of this work to +illustrate, namely, that Byron was only original and truly great when +he wrote from the dictates of his own breast, and described from the +suggestions of things he had seen. When his imagination found +not in his subject uses for the materials of his experience, and opportunities +to embody them, it seemed to be no longer the same high and mysterious +faculty that so ruled the tides of the feelings of others. He +then appeared a more ordinary poet——a skilful verse-maker. +The necromancy which held the reader spellbound became ineffectual; +and the charm and the glory which interested so intensely, and shone +so radiantly on his configurations from realities, all failed and faded; +for his genius dealt not with airy fancies, but had its power and dominion +amid the living and the local of the actual world.</p> +<p>I shall now return to the consideration of his works, and the first +in order is <i>The Corsair</i>, published in 1814. He seems to +have been perfectly sensible that this beautiful composition was in +his best peculiar manner. It is indeed a pirate’s isle, +peopled with his own creatures.</p> +<p>It has been alleged that Lord Byron was indebted to Sir Walter Scott’s +poem of <i>Rokeby</i> for the leading incidents of <i>The Corsair</i>, +but the resemblance is not to me very obvious: besides, the whole style +of the poem is so strikingly in his own manner, that even had he borrowed +the plan, it was only as a thread to string his own original conceptions +upon; the beauty and brilliancy of them could not be borrowed, and are +not imitations.</p> +<p>There were two islands in the Archipelago, when Lord Byron was in +Greece, considered as the chief haunts of the pirates, Stampalia, and +a long narrow island between Cape Colonna and Zea. Jura also was +a little tainted in its reputation. I think, however, from the +description, that the pirate’s isle of <i>The Corsair</i> is the +island off Cape Colonna. It is a rude, rocky mass. I know +not to what particular Coron, if there be more than one, the poet alludes; +for the Coron of the Morea is neighbour to, if not in, the Mainote territory, +a tract of country which never submitted to the Turks, and was exempted +from the jurisdiction of Mussulman officers by the payment of an annual +tribute. The Mainotes themselves are all pirates and robbers. +If it be in that Coron that Byron has placed Seyd the pasha, it must +be attributed to inadvertency. His Lordship was never there, nor +in any part of Maina; nor does he describe the place, a circumstance +which of itself goes far to prove the inadvertency. It is, however, +only in making it the seat of a Turkish pasha that any error has been +committed. In working out the incidents of the poem where descriptions +of scenery are given, they relate chiefly to Athens and its neighbourhood. +In themselves these descriptions are executed with an exquisite felicity; +but they are brought in without any obvious reason wherefore. +In fact, they appear to have been written independently of the poem, +and are patched on “shreds of purple” which could have been +spared.</p> +<p>The character of Conrad the Corsair may be described as a combination +of the warrior of Albania and a naval officer—Childe Harold mingled +with the hero of <i>The Giaour.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> A man of loneliness and mystery,<br />Scarce seen +to smile, and seldom heard to sigh;<br />Robust, but not Herculean, +to the sight,<br />No giant frame sets forth his common height;<br />Yet +in the whole, who paused to look again<br />Saw more than marks the +crowd of vulgar men:<br />They gaze and marvel how, and still confess<br />That +thus it is, but why they cannot guess.<br />Sun-burnt his cheek, his +forehead high and pale,<br />The sable curls in wild profusion veil.<br />And +oft perforce his rising lip reveals<br />The haughtier thought it curbs, +but scarce conceals:<br />Though smooth his voice, and calm his general +mien,<br />Still seems there something he would not have seen.<br />His +features’ deepening lines and varying hue<br />At times attracted, +yet perplex’d the view,<br />As if within that murkiness of mind<br />Work’d +feelings fearful, and yet undefined:<br />Such might he be that none +could truly tell,<br />Too close inquiry his stern glance could quell.<br />There +breathed but few whose aspect could defy<br />The full encounter of +his searching eye;<br />He had the skill, when cunning gaze to seek<br />To +probe his heart and watch his changing cheek,<br />At once the observer’s +purpose to espy,<br />And on himself roll back his scrutiny,<br />Lest +he to Conrad rather should betray<br />Some secret thought, than drag +that chief’s to day.</p> +<p>There was a laughing devil in his sneer<br />That raised emotions +both of rage and fear;<br />And where his frown of hatred darkly fell<br />Hope +withering fled, and mercy sigh’d, farewell.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>It will be allowed that, in this portrait, some of the darker features +and harsher lineaments of Byron himself are very evident, but with a +more fixed sternness than belonged to him; for it was only by fits that +he could put on such severity. Conrad is, however, a higher creation +than any which he had previously described. Instead of the listlessness +of Childe Harold, he is active and enterprising; such as the noble pilgrim +would have been, but for the satiety which had relaxed his energies. +There is also about him a solemnity different from the animation of +the Giaour—a penitential despair arising from a cause undisclosed. +The Giaour, though wounded and fettered, and laid in a dungeon, would +not have felt as Conrad is supposed to feel in that situation. +The following bold and terrific verses, descriptive of the maelstrom +agitations of remorse, could not have been appropriately applied to +the despair of grief, the predominant source of emotion in <i>The Giaour.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>There is a war, a chaos of the mind<br />When all its elements convulsed +combined,<br />Lie dark and jarring with perturbed force,<br />And gnashing +with impenitent remorse.<br />That juggling fiend who never spake before,<br />But +cries, “I warn’d thee,” when the deed is o’er;<br />Vain +voice, the spirit burning, but unbent,<br />May writhe, rebel—the +weak alone repent.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The character of Conrad is undoubtedly finely imagined; as the painters +would say, it is in the highest style of art, and brought out with sublime +effect; but still it is only another phase of the same portentous meteor, +that was nebulous in <i>Childe Harold</i>, and fiery in <i>The Giaour</i>. +To the safe and shop-resorting inhabitants of Christendom, <i>The Corsair</i> +seems to present many improbabilities; nevertheless, it is true to nature, +and in every part of the Levant the traveller meets with individuals +whose air and physiognomy remind him of Conrad. The incidents +of the story, also, so wild and extravagant to the snug and legal notions +of England, are not more in keeping with the character, than they are +in accordance with fact and reality. The poet suffers immeasurable +injustice, when it is attempted to determine the probability of the +wild scenes and wilder adventurers of his tales, by the circumstances +and characters of the law-regulated system of our diurnal affairs. +Probability is a standard formed by experience, and it is not surprising +that the anchorets of libraries should object to the improbability of +<i>The Corsair</i>, and yet acknowledge the poetical power displayed +in the composition; for it is a work which could only have been written +by one who had himself seen or heard on the spot of transactions similar +to those he has described. No course of reading could have supplied +materials for a narration so faithfully descriptive of the accidents +to which an Ægean pirate is exposed as <i>The Corsair</i>. +Had Lord Byron never been out of England, the production of a work so +appropriate in reflection, so wild in spirit, and so bold in invention, +as in that case it would have been, would have entitled him to the highest +honours of original conception, or been rejected as extravagant; considered +as the result of things seen, and of probabilities suggested, by transactions +not uncommon in the region where his genius gathered the ingredients +of its sorceries, more than the half of its merits disappear, while +the other half brighten with the lustre of truth.</p> +<p>The manners, the actions, and the incidents were new to the English +mind; but to the inhabitant of the Levant they have long been familiar, +and the traveller who visits that region will hesitate to admit that +Lord Byron possessed those creative powers, and that discernment of +dark bosoms for which he is so much celebrated; because he will see +there how little of invention was necessary to form such heroes as Conrad, +and how much the actual traffic of life and trade is constantly stimulating +enterprise and bravery. But let it not, therefore, be supposed, +that I would undervalue either the genius of the poet, or the merits +of the poem, in saying so, for I do think a higher faculty has been +exerted in <i>The Corsair</i> than in <i>Childe Harold</i>. In +the latter, only actual things are described, freshly and vigorously +as they were seen, and feelings expressed eloquently as they were felt; +but in the former, the talent of combination has been splendidly employed. +The one is a view from nature, the other is a composition both from +nature and from history.</p> +<p><i>Lara</i>, which appeared soon after <i>The Corsair</i>, is an +evident supplement to it; the description of the hero corresponds in +person and character with Conrad; so that the remarks made on <i>The +Corsair</i> apply, in all respects, to <i>Lara</i>. The poem itself +is perhaps, in elegance, superior; but the descriptions are not so vivid, +simply because they are more indebted to imagination. There is +one of them, however, in which the lake and abbey of Newstead are dimly +shadowed, equal in sweetness and solemnity to anything the poet has +ever written.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>It was the night, and Lara’s glassy stream<br />The stars are +studding each with imaged beam:<br />So calm, the waters scarcely seem +to stray,<br />And yet they glide, like happiness, away;<br />Reflecting +far and fairy-like from high<br />The immortal lights that live along +the sky;<br />Its banks are fringed with many a goodly tree,<br />And +flowers the fairest that may feast the bee:<br />Such in her chaplet +infant Dian wove,<br />And innocence would offer to her love;<br />These +deck the shore, the waves their channel make<br />In windings bright +and mazy, like the snake.<br />All was so still, so soft in earth and +air,<br />You scarce would start to meet a spirit there,<br />Secure +that naught of evil could delight<br />To walk in such a scene, in such +a night!<br />It was a moment only for the good:<br />So Lara deemed: +nor longer there he stood;<br />But turn’d in silence to his castle-gate:<br />Such +scene his soul no more could contemplate:<br />Such scene reminded him +of other days,<br />Of skies more cloudless, moons of purer blaze;<br />Of +nights more soft and frequent, hearts that now—<br />No, no! the +storm may beat upon his brow<br />Unfelt, unsparing; but a night like +this,<br />A night of beauty, mock’d such breast as his.</p> +<p>He turn’d within his solitary hall,<br />And his high shadow +shot along the wall:<br />There were the painted forms of other times—<br />’Twas +all they left of virtues or of crimes,<br />Save vague tradition; and +the gloomy vaults<br />That hid their dust, their foibles, and their +faults,<br />And half a column of the pompous page,<br />That speeds +the spacious tale from age to age;<br />Where history’s pen its +praise or blame supplies<br />And lies like truth, and still most truly +lies;<br />He wand’ring mused, and as the moonbeam shone<br />Through +the dim lattice o’er the floor of stone,<br />And the high-fretted +roof and saints that there<br />O’er Gothic windows knelt in pictured +prayer;<br />Reflected in fantastic figures grew<br />Like life, but +not like mortal life to view;<br />His bristling locks of sable, brow +of gloom,<br />And the wide waving of his shaken plume<br />Glanced +like a spectre’s attributes, and gave<br />His aspect all that +terror gives the grave.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>That Byron wrote best when he wrote of himself and of his own, has +probably been already made sufficiently apparent. In this respect +he stands alone and apart from all other poets, and there will be occasion +to show, that this peculiarity extended much farther over all his works, +than merely to those which may be said to have required him to be thus +personal. The great distinction, indeed, of his merit consists +in that singularity. Shakspeare, in drawing the materials of his +dramas from tales and history has, with wonderful art, given from his +own invention and imagination the fittest and most appropriate sentiments +and language; and admiration at the perfection with which he has accomplished +this, can never be exhausted. The difference between Byron and +Shakspeare consists in the curious accident, if it may be so called, +by which the former was placed in circumstances which taught him to +feel in himself the very sentiments that he has ascribed to his characters. +Shakspeare created the feelings of his, and with such excellence, that +they are not only probable to the situations, but give to the personifications +the individuality of living persons. Byron’s are scarcely +less so; but with him there was no invention, only experience, and when +he attempts to express more than he has himself known, he is always +comparatively feeble.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXI</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Byron determines to reside abroad</i>—<i>Visits the Plain +of Waterloo</i>—<i>State of his Feelings</i></p> +<p>From different incidental expressions in his correspondence it is +sufficiently evident that Byron, before his marriage, intended to reside +abroad. In his letter to me of the 11th December, 1813, he distinctly +states this intention, and intimates that he then thought of establishing +his home in Greece. It is not therefore surprising that, after +his separation from Lady Byron, he should have determined to carry this +intention into effect; for at that period, besides the calumny heaped +upon him from all quarters, the embarrassment of his affairs, and the +retaliatory satire, all tended to force him into exile; he had no longer +any particular tie to bind him to England.</p> +<p>On the 25th of April, 1816, he sailed for Ostend, and resumed the +composition of <i>Childe Harold</i>, it may be said, from the moment +of his embarkation. In it, however, there is no longer the fiction +of an imaginary character stalking like a shadow amid his descriptions +and reflections——he comes more decidedly forwards as the +hero in his own person.</p> +<p>In passing to Brussels he visited the field of Waterloo, and the +slight sketch which he has given in the poem of that eventful conflict +is still the finest which has yet been written on the subject.</p> +<p>But the note of his visit to the field is of more importance to my +present purpose, inasmuch as it tends to illustrate the querulous state +of his own mind at the time.</p> +<p>“I went on horseback twice over the field, comparing it with +my recollection of similar scenes. As a plain, Waterloo seems +marked out for the scene of some great action, though this may be mere +imagination. I have viewed with attention those of Platea, Troy, +Mantinea, Leuctra, Chævronæ, and Marathon, and the field +round Mont St Jean and Hugoumont appears to want little but a better +cause and that indefinable but impressive halo which the lapse of ages +throws around a celebrated spot, to vie in interest with any or all +of these, except perhaps the last-mentioned.”</p> +<p>The expression “a better cause,” could only have been +engendered in mere waywardness; but throughout his reflections at this +period a peevish ill-will towards England is often manifested, as if +he sought to attract attention by exasperating the national pride; that +pride which he secretly flattered himself was to be augmented by his +own fame.</p> +<p>I cannot, in tracing his travels through the third canto, test the +accuracy of his descriptions as in the former two; but as they are all +drawn from actual views they have the same vivid individuality impressed +upon them. Nothing can be more simple and affecting than the following +picture, nor less likely to be an imaginary scene:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> By Coblentz, on a rise of gentle ground,<br /> There +is a small and simple pyramid,<br /> Crowning the summit +of the verdant mound;<br /> Beneath its base are heroes’ +ashes hid,<br /> Our enemies. And let not that +forbid<br /> Honour to Marceau, o’er whose early +tomb<br /> Tears, big tears, rush’d from the +rough soldier’s lid,<br /> Lamenting and yet +envying such a doom,<br />Falling for France, whose rights he battled +to resume.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Perhaps few passages of descriptive poetry excel that in which reference +is made to the column of Avenches, the ancient Aventicum. It combines +with an image distinct and picturesque, poetical associations full of +the grave and moral breathings of olden forms and hoary antiquity.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> By a lone wall, a lonelier column rears<br /> A +gray and grief-worn aspect of old days:<br /> ’Tis +the last remnant of the wreck of years,<br /> And looks +as with the wild-bewilder’d gaze<br /> Of one +to stone converted by amaze,<br /> Yet still with consciousness; +and there it stands,<br /> Making a marvel that it +not decays,<br /> When the coeval pride of human hands,<br />Levell’d +Aventicum, hath strew’d her subject lands.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>But the most remarkable quality in the third canto is the deep, low +bass of thought which runs through several passages, and which gives +to it, when considered with reference to the circumstances under which +it was written, the serious character of documentary evidence as to +the remorseful condition of the poet’s mind. It would be, +after what has already been pointed out in brighter incidents, affectation +not to say, that these sad bursts of feeling and wild paroxysms, bear +strong indications of having been suggested by the wreck of his domestic +happiness, and dictated by contrition for the part he had himself taken +in the ruin. The following reflections on the unguarded hour, +are full of pathos and solemnity, amounting almost to the deep and dreadful +harmony of <i>Manfred</i>:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> To fly from, need not be to hate, mankind;<br /> All +are not fit with them to stir and toil,<br /> Nor is +it discontent to keep the mind<br /> Deep in its fountain, +lest it overboil<br /> In the hot throng, where we +become the spoil<br /> Of our infection, till too late +and long<br /> We may deplore and struggle with the +coil,<br /> In wretched interchange of wrong for wrong<br />’Midst +a contentious world, striving where none are strong.</p> +<p> There, in a moment, we may plunge our years<br /> In +fatal penitence, and in the blight<br /> Of our own +soul, turn all our blood to tears,<br /> And colour +things to come with hues of night;<br /> The race of +life becomes a hopeless flight<br /> To those who walk +in darkness: on the sea,<br /> The boldest steer but +where their ports invite;<br /> But there are wanderers +o’er eternity,<br />Whose bark drives on and on, and anchor’d +ne’er shall be.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>These sentiments are conceived in the mood of an awed spirit; they +breathe of sorrow and penitence. Of the weariness of satiety the +pilgrim no more complains; he is no longer despondent from exhaustion, +and the lost appetite of passion, but from the weight of a burden which +he cannot lay down; and he clings to visible objects, as if from their +nature he could extract a moral strength.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> I live not in myself, but I become<br /> Portion +of that around me; and to me,<br /> High mountains +are a feeling, but the hum<br /> Of human cities tortures: +I can see<br /> Nothing to loathe in nature, save to +be<br /> A link reluctant in a fleshly chain,<br /> Class’d +among creatures, where the soul can flee,<br /> And +with the sky, the peak, the heaving plain<br />Of ocean, or the stars, +mingle, and not in vain.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>These dim revelations of black and lowering thought are overshadowed +with a darker hue than sorrow alone could have cast. A consciousness +of sinful blame is evident amid them; and though the fantasies that +loom through the mystery, are not so hideous as the guilty reveries +in the weird caldron of Manfred’s conscience, still they have +an awful resemblance to them. They are phantoms of the same murky +element, and, being more akin to fortitude than despair, prophesy not +of hereafter, but oracularly confess suffering.</p> +<p>Manfred himself hath given vent to no finer horror than the oracle +that speaks in this magnificent stanza:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> I have not loved the world, nor the world me;<br /> I +have not flatter’d its rank breath, nor bow’d<br /> To +its idolatries a patient knee—<br /> Nor coin’d +my cheek to smiles—nor cried aloud<br /> In worship +of an echo;—in the crowd<br /> They could not +deem me one of such; I stood<br /> Among them, but +not of them; in a shroud<br /> Of thoughts which were +not of their thoughts, and still could,<br />Had I not filed my mind, +which thus itself subdued.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>There are times in life when all men feel their sympathies extinct, +and Lord Byron was evidently in that condition, when he penned these +remarkable lines; but independently of their striking beauty, the scenery +in which they were conceived deserves to be considered with reference +to the sentiment that pervades them. For it was amid the same +obscure ravines, pine-tufted precipices and falling waters of the Alps, +that he afterward placed the outcast Manfred—an additional corroboration +of the justness of the remarks which I ventured to offer, in adverting +to his ruminations in contemplating, while yet a boy, the Malvern hills, +as if they were the scenes of his impassioned childhood. In “the +palaces of nature,” he first felt the consciousness of having +done some wrong, and when he would infuse into another, albeit in a +wilder degree, the feelings he had himself felt, he recalled the images +which had ministered to the cogitations of his own contrition. +But I shall have occasion to speak more of this, when I come to consider +the nature of the guilt and misery of Manfred.</p> +<p>That <i>Manfred</i> is the greatest of Byron’s works will probably +not be disputed. It has more than the fatal mysticism of <i>Macbeth</i>, +with the satanic grandeur of the <i>Paradise Lost</i>, and the hero +is placed in circumstances, and amid scenes, which accord with the stupendous +features of his preternatural character. How then, it may be asked, +does this moral phantom, that has never been, bear any resemblance to +the poet himself? Must not, in this instance, the hypothesis which +assigns to Byron’s heroes his own sentiments and feelings be abandoned? +I think not. In noticing the deep and solemn reflections with +which he was affected in ascending the Rhine, and which he has embodied +in the third canto of Childe Harold, I have already pointed out a similarity +in the tenour of the thoughts to those of Manfred, as well as the striking +acknowledgment of the “filed” mind. There is, moreover, +in the drama, the same distaste of the world which Byron himself expressed +when cogitating on the desolation of his hearth, and the same contempt +of the insufficiency of his genius and renown to mitigate contrition—all +in strange harmony with the same magnificent objects of sight. +Is not the opening soliloquy of Manfred the very echo of the reflections +on the Rhine?</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>My slumbers—if I slumber—are not sleep,<br />But a continuance +of enduring thought,<br />Which then I can resist not; in my heart<br />There +is a vigil, and these eyes but close<br />To look within—and yet +I live and bear<br />The aspect and the form of breathing man.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>But the following is more impressive: it is the very phrase he would +himself have employed to have spoken of the consequences of his fatal +marriage:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>My in juries came down on those who lov’d me,<br />On those +whom I best lov’d; I never quell’d<br />An enemy, save in +my just defence—<br />But my embrace was fatal.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>He had not, indeed, been engaged in any duel of which the issue was +mortal; but he had been so far engaged with more than one, that he could +easily conceive what it would have been to have quelled an enemy in +just defence. But unless the reader can himself discern, by his +sympathies, that there is the resemblance I contend for, it is of no +use to multiply instances. I shall, therefore, give but one other +extract, which breathes the predominant spirit of all Byron ‘s +works—that sad translation of the preacher’s “vanity +of vanities; all is vanity!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Look on me! there is an order<br />Of mortals on +the earth, who do become<br />Old in their youth and die ere middle +age,<br />Without the violence of warlike death;<br />Some perishing +of pleasure—some of study—<br />Some worn with toil—some +of mere weariness—<br />Some of disease—and some insanity—<br />And +some of wither’d or of broken hearts;<br />For this last is a +malady which slays<br />More than are number’d in the lists of +Fate;<br />Taking all shapes, and bearing many names.<br />Look upon +me! for even of all these things<br />Have I partaken—and of all +these things<br />One were enough; then wonder not that I<br />Am what +I am, but that I ever was,<br />Or, having been, that I am still on +earth.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Byron’s Residence in Switzerland</i>—<i>Excursion +to the Glaciers</i>—<i>“Manfred” founded on a magical +Sacrifice, not on Guilt</i>—<i>Similarity between Sentiments given +to Manfred and those expressed by Lord Byron in his own Person</i></p> +<p>The account given by Captain Medwin of the manner in which Lord Byron +spent his time in Switzerland, has the raciness of his Lordship’s +own quaintness, somewhat diluted. The reality of the conversations +I have heard questioned, but they relate in some instances to matters +not generally known, to the truth of several of which I can myself bear +witness; moreover they have much of the poet’s peculiar modes +of thinking about them, though weakened in effect by the reporter. +No man can give a just representation of another who is not capable +of putting himself into the character of his original, and of thinking +with his power and intelligence. Still there are occasional touches +of merit in the feeble outlines of Captain Medwin, and with this conviction +it would be negligence not to avail myself of them.</p> +<p>“Switzerland,” said his Lordship, “is a country +I have been satisfied with seeing once; Turkey I could live in for ever. +I never forget my predilections: I was in a wretched state of health +and worse spirits when I was at Geneva; but quiet and the lake, better +physicians than Polidori, soon set me up. I never led so moral +a life as during my residence in that country; but I gained no credit +by it. Where there is mortification there ought to be reward. +On the contrary, there is no story so absurd that they did not invent +at my cost. I was watched by glasses on the opposite side of the +lake, and by glasses, too, that must have had very distorted optics; +I was waylaid in my evening drives. I believe they looked upon +me as a man-monster.</p> +<p>“I knew very few of the Genevese. Hentsh was very civil +to me, and I have a great respect for Sismondi. I was forced to +return the civilities of one of their professors by asking him and an +old gentleman, a friend of Gray’s, to dine with me I had gone +out to sail early in the morning, and the wind prevented me from returning +in time for dinner. I understand that I offended them mortally.</p> +<p>“Among our countrymen I made no new acquaintances; Shelley, +Monk Lewis, and Hobhouse were almost the only English people I saw. +No wonder; I showed a distaste for society at that time, and went little +among the Genevese; besides, I could not speak French. When I +went the tour of the lake with Shelley and Hobhouse, the boat was nearly +wrecked near the very spot where St Preux and Julia were in danger of +being drowned. It would have been classical to have been lost +there, but not agreeable.”</p> +<p>The third canto of <i>Childe Harold</i>, <i>Manfred</i>, and <i>The +Prisoner of Chillon</i> are the fruits of his travels up the Rhine and +of his sojourn in Switzerland. Of the first it is unnecessary +to say more; but the following extract from the poet’s travelling +memorandum-book, has been supposed to contain the germ of the tragedy</p> +<p>“<i>September</i> 22, 18 16.—Left Thun in a boat, which +carried us the length of the lake in three hours. The lake small, +but the banks fine; rocks down to the water’s edge: landed at +Newhouse; passed Interlachen; entered upon a range of scenes beyond +all description or previous conception; passed a rock bearing an inscription; +two brothers, one murdered the other; just the place for it. After +a variety of windings, came to an enormous rock; arrived at the foot +of the mountain (the Jungfrau) glaciers; torrents, one of these nine +hundred feet, visible descent; lodge at the curate’s; set out +to see the valley; heard an avalanche fall like thunder; glaciers; enormous +storm comes on thunder and lightning and hail, all in perfection and +beautiful. The torrent is in shape, curving over the rock, like +the tail of the white horse streaming in the wind, just as might be +conceived would be that of the pale horse on which Death is mounted +in the Apocalypse: it is neither mist nor water, but a something between +both; its immense height gives a wave, a curve, a spreading here, a +condensation there, wonderful, indescribable</p> +<p>“<i>September</i> 23.—Ascent of the Wingren, the <i>dent +d’argent</i> shining like truth on one side, on the other the +clouds rose from the opposite valley, curling up perpendicular precipices +like the foam of the ocean of hell during a spring-tide. It was +white and sulphury, and immeasurably deep in appearance; the side we +ascended was of course not of so precipitous a nature; but on arriving +at the summit, we looked down on the other side upon a boiling sea of +cloud dashing against the crag on which we stood. Arrived at the +Greenderwold, mounted and rode to the higher glacier, twilight, but +distinct, very fine; glacier like a frozen hurricane; starlight beautiful; +the whole of the day was fine, and, in point of weather, as the day +in which Paradise was made. Passed whole woods of withered pines, +all withered, trunks stripped and lifeless, done by a single winter.”</p> +<p>Undoubtedly in these brief and abrupt but masterly touches, hints +for the scenery of Manfred may be discerned, but I can perceive nothing +in them which bears the least likelihood to their having influenced +the conception of that sublime work.</p> +<p>There has always been from the first publication of <i>Manfred</i>, +a strange misapprehension with respect to it in the public mind. +The whole poem has been misunderstood, and the odious supposition that +ascribes the fearful mystery and remorse of a hero to a foul passion +for his sister, is probably one of those coarse imaginations which have +grown out of the calumnies and accusations heaped upon the author. +How can it have happened that none of the critics have noticed that +the story is derived from the human sacrifices supposed to have been +in use among the students of the black art?</p> +<p>Manfred is represented as being actuated by an insatiable curiosity—a +passion to know the forbidden secrets of the world. The scene +opens with him at his midnight studies—his lamp is almost burned +out—and he has been searching for knowledge and has not found +it, but only that</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Sorrow is knowledge: they who know the most<br />Must mourn the deepest +o’er the fatal truth,<br />The tree of knowledge is not that of +life.<br />Philosophy and science and the springs<br />Of wonder, and +the wisdom of the world<br />I have essayed, and in my mind there is,<br />A +power to make these subject to itself.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>He is engaged in calling spirits; and, as the incantation proceeds, +they obey his bidding, and ask him what he wants; he replies, “forgetfulness.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>FIRST SPIRIT</p> +<p>Of what—of whom—and why?</p> +<p>MANFRED</p> +<p>Of that which is within me; read it there——<br />Ye know +it, and I cannot utter it.</p> +<p>SPIRIT</p> +<p>We can but give thee that which we possess;—<br />Ask of us +subjects, sovereignty, the power<br />O’er earth, the whole or +portion, or a sign<br />Which shall control the elements, whereof<br />We +are the dominators. Each and all—<br />These shall be thine.</p> +<p>MANFRED</p> +<p> Oblivion, self oblivion—<br />Can ye not +wring from out the hidden realms<br />Ye offer so profusely, what I +ask?</p> +<p>SPIRIT</p> +<p>It is not in our essence, in our skill,<br />But—thou may’st +die.</p> +<p>MANFRED</p> +<p> Will death bestow it on me?</p> +<p>SPIRIT</p> +<p>We are immortal, and do not forget;<br />We are eternal, and to us +the past<br />Is as the future, present. Art thou answer’d?</p> +<p>MANFRED</p> +<p>Ye mock me, but the power which brought ye here<br />Hath made you +mine. Slaves! scoff not at my will;<br />The mind, the spirit, +the Promethean spark,<br />The lightning of my being is as bright,<br />Pervading +and far darting as your own,<br />And shall not yield to yours though +coop’d in clay.<br />Answer, or I will teach you what I am.</p> +<p>SPIRIT</p> +<p>We answer as we answer’d. Our reply<br />Is even in thine +own words.</p> +<p>MANFRED</p> +<p>Why say ye so?</p> +<p>SPIRIT</p> +<p>If, as thou say’st, thine essence be as ours,<br />We have +replied in telling thee the thing<br />Mortals call death hath naught +to do with us.</p> +<p>MANFRED</p> +<p>I then have call’d you from your realms in vain.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>This impressive and original scene prepares the reader to wonder +why it is that Manfred is so desirous to drink of Lethe. He has +acquired dominion over spirits, and he finds, in the possession of the +power, that knowledge has only brought him sorrow. They tell him +he is immortal, and what he suffers is as inextinguishable as his own +being: why should he desire forgetfulness?—Has he not committed +a great secret sin? What is it?—He alludes to his sister, +and in his subsequent interview with the witch we gather a dreadful +meaning concerning her fate. Her blood has been shed, not by his +hand nor in punishment, but in the shadow and occultations of some unutterable +crime and mystery.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>She was like me in lineaments; her eyes,<br />Her hair, her features, +all to the very tone<br />Even of her voice, they said were like to +mine,<br />But soften’d all and temper’d into beauty.<br />She +had the same lone thoughts and wanderings,<br />The quest of hidden +knowledge, and a mind<br />To comprehend the universe; nor these<br />Alone, +but with them gentler powers than mine,<br />Pity, and smiles, and tears, +which I had not;<br />And tenderness—but that I had for her;<br />Humility, +and that I never had:<br />Her faults were mine—her virtues were +her own;<br />I lov’d her and—destroy’d her—</p> +<p>WITCH</p> +<p>With thy hand?</p> +<p>MANFRED</p> +<p>Not with my hand, but heart, which broke her heart.<br />It gaz’d +on mine, and withered. I have shed<br />Blood, but not hers, and +yet her blood was shed;—<br />I saw, and could not stanch it.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>There is in this little scene, perhaps, the deepest pathos ever expressed; +but it is not of its beauty that I am treating; my object in noticing +it here is, that it may be considered in connection with that where +Manfred appears with his insatiate thirst of knowledge, and manacled +with guilt. It indicates that his sister, Astarte, had been self-sacrificed +in the pursuit of their magical knowledge. Human sacrifices were +supposed to be among the initiate propitiations of the demons that have +their purposes in magic—as well as compacts signed with the blood +of the self-sold. There was also a dark Egyptian art, of which +the knowledge and the efficacy could only be obtained by the novitiate’s +procuring a voluntary victim—the dearest object to himself and +to whom he also was the dearest; <a name="citation241"></a><a href="#footnote241">{241}</a> +and the primary spring of Byron’s tragedy lies, I conceive, in +a sacrifice of that kind having been performed, without obtaining that +happiness which the votary expected would be found in the knowledge +and power purchased at such a price. His sister was sacrificed +in vain. The manner of the sacrifice is not divulged, but it is +darkly intimated to have been done amid the perturbations of something +horrible.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Night after night for years<br />He hath pursued +long vigils in this tower<br />Without a witness.—I have been +within it—<br />So have we all been ofttimes; but from it,<br />Or +its contents, it were impossible<br />To draw conclusions absolute of +aught<br />His studies tend to.—To be sure there is<br />One chamber +where none enter—. . .<br />Count Manfred was, as now, within +his tower:<br />How occupied—we know not—but with him,<br />The +sole companion of his wanderings<br />And watchings—her—whom +of all earthly things<br />That liv’d, the only thing he seem’d +to love.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>With admirable taste, and its thrilling augmentation of the horror, +the poet leaves the deed which was done in that unapproachable chamber +undivulged, while we are darkly taught, that within it lie the relics +or the ashes of the “one without a tomb.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>State of Byron in Switzerland</i>—<i>He goes to Venice</i>—<i>The +fourth Canto of “Childe Harold”</i>—<i>Rumination +on his own Condition</i>—<i>Beppo</i>—<i>Lament of Tasso</i>—<i>Curious +Example of Byron’s metaphysical Love</i></p> +<p>The situation of Lord Byron in Switzerland was comfortless. +He found that “the montain palaces of Nature” afforded no +asylum to a haunted heart; he was ill at ease with himself, even dissatisfied +that the world had not done him enough of wrong to justify his misanthropy.</p> +<p>Some expectation that his lady would repent of her part in the separation +probably induced him to linger in the vicinity of Geneva, the thoroughfare +of the travelling English, whom he affected to shun. If it were +so, he was disappointed, and, his hopes being frustrated, he broke up +the establishment he had formed there and crossed the Alps. After +visiting some of the celebrated scenes and places in the north of Italy +he passed on to Venice, where he domiciled himself for a time.</p> +<p>During his residence at Venice Lord Byron avoided as much as possible +any intercourse with his countrymen. This was perhaps in some +degree necessary, and it was natural in the state of his mind. +He had become an object of great public interest by his talents; the +stories connected with his domestic troubles had also increased his +notoriety, and in such circumstances he could not but shrink from the +inquisition of mere curiosity. But there was an insolence in the +tone with which he declares his “utter abhorrence of any contact +with the travelling English,” that can neither be commended for +its spirit, nor palliated by any treatment he had suffered. Like +Coriolanus he may have banished his country, but he had not, like the +Roman, received provocation: on the contrary, he had been the aggressor +in the feuds with his literary adversaries; and there was a serious +accusation against his morals, or at least his manners, in the circumstances +under which Lady Byron withdrew from his house. It was, however, +his misfortune throughout life to form a wrong estimate of himself in +everything save in his poetical powers.</p> +<p>A life in Venice is more monotonous than in any other great city; +but a man of genius carries with him everywhere a charm, which secures +to him both variety and enjoyment. Lord Byron had scarcely taken +up his abode in Venice, when he began the fourth canto of <i>Childe +Harold</i>, which he published early in the following year, and dedicated +to his indefatigable friend Mr Hobhouse by an epistle dated on the anniversary +of his marriage, “the most unfortunate day,” as he says, +“of his past existence.”</p> +<p>In this canto he has indulged his excursive moralizing beyond even +the wide licence he took in the three preceding parts; but it bears +the impression of more reading and observation. Though not superior +in poetical energy, it is yet a higher work than any of them, and something +of a more resolved and masculine spirit pervades the reflections, and +endows, as it were, with thought and enthusiasm the aspect of the things +described. Of the merits of the descriptions, as of real things, +I am not qualified to judge: the transcripts from the tablets of the +author’s bosom he has himself assured us are faithful.</p> +<p>“With regard to the conduct of the last canto, there will be +found less of the pilgrim than in any of the preceding, and that little +slightly, if at all, separated from the author speaking in his own person. +The fact is, that I had become weary of drawing a line, which every +one seemed determined not to perceive: like the Chinese, in Goldsmith’s +<i>Citizen of the World</i>, whom nobody would believe to be a Chinese, +it was in vain that I asserted and imagined that I had drawn a distinction +between the author and the pilgrim; and the very anxiety to preserve +this difference, and the disappointment at finding it unavailing, so +far crushed my efforts in the composition, that I determined to abandon +it altogether—and have done so.”</p> +<p>This confession, though it may not have been wanted, gives a pathetic +emphasis to those passages in which the poet speaks of his own feelings. +That his mind was jarred, and out of joint, there is too much reason +to believe; but he had in some measure overcome the misery that clung +to him during the dismal time of his sojourn in Switzerland, and the +following passage, though breathing the sweet and melancholy spirit +of dejection, possesses a more generous vein of nationality than is +often met with in his works, even when the same proud sentiment might +have been more fitly expressed:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> I’ve taught me other tongues—and in +strange eyes<br /> Have made me not a stranger; to +the mind<br /> Which is itself, no changes bring surprise,<br /> Nor +is it harsh to make or hard to find<br /> A country +with—aye, or without mankind.<br /> Yet was I +born where men are proud to be,<br /> Not without cause; +and should I leave behind<br /> Th’ inviolate +island of the sage and free,<br />And seek me out a home by a remoter +sea?</p> +<p> Perhaps I lov’d it well, and should I lay<br /> My +ashes in a soil which is not mine,<br /> My spirit +shall resume it—if we may,<br /> Unbodied, choose +a sanctuary. I twine<br /> My hopes of being +remember’d in my line,<br /> With my land’s +language; if too fond and far<br /> These aspirations +in their hope incline—<br /> If my fame should +be as my fortunes are,<br />Of hasty growth and blight, and dull oblivion +bar</p> +<p> My name from out the temple where the dead<br /> Are +honour’d by the nations—let it be,<br /> And +light the laurels on a loftier head,<br /> And be the +Spartan’s epitaph on me:<br /> “Sparta +had many a worthier son than he”;<br /> Meantime +I seek no sympathies, nor need;<br /> The thorns which +I have reap’d are of the tree<br /> I planted—they +have torn me—and I bleed:<br />I should have known what fruit +would spring from such a seed.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>It will strike the reader as remarkable, that although the poet, +in the course of this canto, takes occasion to allude to Dante and Tasso, +in whose destinies there was a shadowy likeness of his own, the rumination +is mingled with less of himself than might have been expected, especially +when it is considered how much it was a habit with him, to make his +own feelings the basis and substratum of the sentiments he ascribed +to others. It has also more than once surprised me that he has +so seldom alluded to Alfieri, whom of all poets, both in character and +conduct, he most resembled; with this difference, however, that Alfieri +was possessed of affections equally intense and durable, whereas the +caprice of Byron made him uncertain in his partialities, or what was +the same in effect, made his friends set less value on them than perhaps +they were entitled to.</p> +<p>Before <i>Childe Harold</i> was finished, an incident occurred which +suggested to Byron a poem of a very different kind to any he had yet +attempted:—without vouching for the exact truth of the anecdote, +I have been told, that he one day received by the mail a copy of Whistlecraft’s +prospectus and specimen of an intended national work; and, moved by +its playfulness, immediately after reading it, began Beppo, which he +finished at a sitting. The facility with which he composed renders +the story not improbable; but, singular as it may seem, the poem itself +has the facetious flavour in it of his gaiety, stronger than even his +grave works have of his frowardness, commonly believed to have been—I +think, unjustly—the predominant mood of his character.</p> +<p>The <i>Ode to Venice</i> is also to be numbered among his compositions +in that city; a spirited and indignant effusion, full of his peculiar +lurid fire, and rich in a variety of impressive and original images. +But there is a still finer poem which belongs to this period of his +history, though written, I believe, before he reached Venice—<i>The +Lament of Tasso</i>: and I am led to notice it the more particularly, +as one of its noblest passages affords an illustration of the opinion +which I have early maintained—that Lord Byron’s extraordinary +pretensions to the influence of love was but a metaphysical conception +of the passion.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>It is no marvel—from my very birth<br />My soul was drunk with +love, which did pervade<br />And mingle with whate’er I saw on +earth;<br />Of objects all inanimate I made<br />Idols, and out of wild +and lovely flowers,<br />And rocks whereby they grew, a paradise,<br />Where +I did lay me down within the shade<br />Of waving trees, and dream’d +uncounted hours.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>It has been remarked by an anonymous author of <i>Memoirs of Lord +Byron</i>, a work written with considerable talent and acumen, that +“this is so far from being in character, that it is the very reverse; +for whether Tasso was in his senses or not, if his love was sincere, +he would have made the object of his affection the sole theme of his +meditation, instead of generalising his passion, and talking about the +original sympathies of his nature.” In truth, no poet has +better described love than Byron has his own peculiar passion.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> His love was passion’s essence—as a +tree<br /> On fire by lightning; with ethereal flame<br /> Kindled +he was, and blasted; for to be<br /> Thus enamour’d +were in him the same.<br /> But his was not the love +of living dame,<br /> Nor of the dead who rise upon +our dreams,<br /> But of ideal beauty, which became<br /> In +him existence, and o’erflowing teems<br />Along his burning page, +distemper’d though it seems.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>In tracing the course of Lord Byron’s career, I have not deemed +it at all necessary to advert to the instances of his generosity, or +to conduct less pleasant to record. Enough has appeared to show +that he was neither deficient in warmth of heart nor in less amiable +feelings; but, upon the whole, it is not probable that either in his +charities or his pleasures he was greatly different from other young +men, though he undoubtedly had a wayward delight in magnifying his excesses, +not in what was to his credit, like most men, but in what was calculated +to do him no honour. More notoriety has been given to an instance +of lavish liberality at Venice, than the case deserved, though it was +unquestionably prompted by a charitable impulse. The house of +a shoemaker, near his Lordship’s residence, in St Samuel, was +burned to the ground, with all it contained, by which the proprietor +was reduced to indigence. Byron not only caused a new but a superior +house to be erected, and also presented the sufferer with a sum of money +equal in value to the whole of his stock in trade and furniture. +I should endanger my reputation for impartiality if I did not, as a +fair set-off to this, also mention that it is said he bought for five +hundred crowns a baker’s wife. There might be charity in +this, too.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIV</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Removes to Ravenna</i>—<i>The Countess Guiccioli</i></p> +<p>Although Lord Byron resided between two and three years at Venice, +he was never much attached to it. “To see a city die daily, +as she does,” said he, “is a sad contemplation. I +sought to distract my mind from a sense of her desolation and my own +solitude, by plunging into a vortex that was anything but pleasure. +When one gets into a mill-stream, it is difficult to swim against it, +and keep out of the wheels.” He became tired and disgusted +with the life he led at Venice, and was glad to turn his back on it. +About the close of the year 1819 he accordingly removed to Ravenna; +but before I proceed to speak of the works which he composed at Ravenna, +it is necessary to explain some particulars respecting a personal affair, +the influence of which on at least one of his productions is as striking +as any of the many instances already described upon others. I +allude to the intimacy which he formed with the young Countess Guiccioli.</p> +<p>This lady, at the age of sixteen, was married to the Count, one of +the richest noblemen in Romagna, but far advanced in life. “From +the first,” said Lord Byron, in his account of her, “they +had separate apartments, and she always called him, Sir! What +could be expected from such a preposterous connection. For some +time she was an <i>Angiolina</i> and he a <i>Marino Faliero</i>, a good +old man; but young Italian women are not satisfied with good old men, +and the venerable Count did not object to her availing herself of the +privileges of her country in selecting a cicisbeo; an Italian would +have made it quite agreeable: indeed, for some time he winked at our +intimacy, but at length made an exception against me, as a foreigner, +a heretic, an Englishman, and, what was worse than all, a Liberal.</p> +<p>“He insisted—Teresa was as obstinate—her family +took her part. Catholics cannot get divorces; but to the scandal +of all Romagna, the matter was at last referred to the Pope, who ordered +her a separate maintenance on condition that she should reside under +her father’s roof. All this was not agreeable, and at length +I was forced to smuggle her out of Ravenna, having discovered a plot +laid with the sanction of the legate, for shutting her up in a convent +for life.”</p> +<p>The Countess Guiccioli was at this time about twenty, but she appeared +younger; her complexion was fair, with large, dark, languishing eyes; +and her auburn hair fell in great profusion of natural ringlets over +her shapely shoulders. Her features were not so regular as in +their expression pleasing, and there was an amiable gentleness in her +voice which was peculiarly interesting. Leigh Hunt’s account +of her is not essentially dissimilar from any other that I have either +heard of or met with. He differs, however, in one respect, from +every other, in saying that her hair was <i>yellow</i>; but considering +the curiosity which this young lady has excited, perhaps it may be as +well to transcribe his description at length, especially as he appears +to have taken some pains on it, and more particularly as her destiny +seems at present to promise that the interest for her is likely to be +revived by another unhappy English connection.</p> +<p>“Her appearance,” says Mr Hunt, “might have reminded +an English spectator of Chaucer’s heroine:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Yclothed was she, fresh for to devise,<br />Her yellow hair was braided +in a tress<br />Behind her back, a yardé long I guess,<br />And +in the garden (as the same uprist)<br />She walketh up and down, where +as her list.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>And then, as Dryden has it:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>At every turn she made a little stand,<br />And thrust among the +thorns her lily hand.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Madame Guiccioli, who was at that time about twenty, was handsome +and lady-like, with an agreeable manner, and a voice not partaking too +much of the Italian fervour to be gentle. She had just enough +of it to give her speaking a grace—none of her graces appeared +entirely free from art; nor, on the other hand, did they betray enough +of it to give you an ill opinion of her sincerity and good-humour . +. . Her hair was what the poet has described, or rather <i>blond</i>, +with an inclination to yellow; a very fair and delicate yellow, at all +events, and within the limits of the poetical. She had regular +features of the order properly called handsome, in distinction to prettiness +or piquancy; being well proportioned to one another, large, rather than +otherwise, but without coarseness, and more harmonious than interesting. +Her nose was the handsomest of the kind I ever saw; and I have known +her both smile very sweetly, and look intelligently, when Lord Byron +has said something kind to her. I should not say, however, that +she was a very intelligent person. Both her wisdom and her want +of wisdom were on the side of her feelings, in which there was doubtless +mingled a good deal of the self-love natural to a flattered beauty. +. . . In a word, Madame Guiccioli was a kind of buxom parlour-boarder, +compressing herself artificially into dignity and elegance, and fancying +she walked, in the eyes of the whole world, a heroine by the side of +a poet. When I saw her at Monte Nero, near Leghorn, she was in +a state of excitement and exultation, and had really something of this +look. At that time, also, she looked no older than she was; in +which respect, a rapid and very singular change took place, to the surprise +of everybody. In the course of a few months she seemed to have +lived as many years.”</p> +<p>This is not very perspicuous portraiture, nor does it show that Mr +Hunt was a very discerning observer of character. Lord Byron himself +is represented to have said, that extraordinary pains were taken with +her education: “Her conversation is lively without being frivolous; +without being learned, she has read all the best authors of her own +and the French language. She often conceals what she knows, from +the fear of being thought to know too much; possibly because she knows +I am not fond of blues. To use an expression of Jeffrey’s, +‘If she has blue stockings, she contrives that her petticoats +shall hide them.’”</p> +<p>Lord Byron was at one time much attached to her; nor could it be +doubted that their affection was reciprocal; but in both, their union +outlived their affection, for before his departure to Greece his attachment +had perished, and he left her, as it is said, notwithstanding the rank +and opulence she had forsaken on his account, without any provision. +He had promised, it was reported, to settle two thousand pounds on her, +but he forgot the intention, or died before it was carried into effect. +<a name="citation255"></a><a href="#footnote255">{255}</a> On +her part, the estrangement was of a different and curious kind—she +had not come to hate him, but she told a lady, the friend of a mutual +acquaintance of Lord Byron and mine, that she feared more than loved +him.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXV</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Residence in Ravenna</i>—<i>The Carbonari</i>—<i>Byron’s +Part in their Plot</i>—<i>The Murder of the military Commandant</i>—<i>The +poetical Use of the Incident</i>—<i>“Marino Faliero”</i>—<i>Reflections</i>—<i>“The +Prophecy of Dante”</i></p> +<p>Lord Byron has said himself, that except Greece, he was never so +attached to any place in his life as to Ravenna. The peasantry +he thought the best people in the world, and their women the most beautiful. +“Those at Tivoli and Frescati,” said he, “are mere +Sabines, coarse creatures, compared to the Romagnese. You may +talk of your English women; and it is true, that out of one hundred +Italian and English you will find thirty of the latter handsome; but +then there will be one Italian on the other side of the scale, who will +more than balance the deficit in numbers—one who, like the Florence +Venus, has no rival, and can have none in the North. I found also +at Ravenna much education and liberality of thinking among the higher +classes. The climate is delightful. I was not broken in +upon by society. Ravenna lies out of the way of travellers. +I was never tired of my rides in the pine forest: it breathes of the +Decameron; it is poetical ground. Francesca lived and Dante was +exiled and died at Ravenna. There is something inspiring in such +an air.</p> +<p>“The people liked me as much as they hated the government. +It is not a little to say, I was popular with all the leaders of the +constitutional party. They knew that I came from a land of liberty, +and wished well to their cause. I would have espoused it, too, +and assisted them to shake off their fetters. They knew my character, +for I had been living two years at Venice, where many of the Ravennese +have houses. I did not, however, take part in their intrigues, +nor join in their political coteries; but I had a magazine of one hundred +stand of arms in the house, when everything was ripe for revolt——a +curse on Carignan’s imbecility! I could have pardoned him +that, too, if he had not impeached his partisans.</p> +<p>“The proscription was immense in Romagna, and embraced many +of the first nobles: almost all my friends, among the rest the Gambas +(the father and brother of the Countess Guiccioli), who took no part +in the affair, were included in it. They were exiled, and their +possessions confiscated. They knew that this must eventually drive +me out of the country. I did not follow them immediately: I was +not to be bullied—I had myself fallen under the eye of the government. +If they could have got sufficient proof they would have arrested me.”</p> +<p>The latter part of this declaration bears, in my opinion, indubitable +marks of being genuine. It has that magnifying mysticism about +it which more than any other quality characterized Lord Byron’s +intimations concerning himself and his own affairs; but it is a little +clearer than I should have expected in the acknowledgment of the part +he was preparing to take in the insurrection. He does not seem +<i>here</i> to be sensible, that in confessing so much, he has justified +the jealousy with which he was regarded.</p> +<p>“Shortly after the plot was discovered,” he proceeds +to say, “I received several anonymous letters, advising me to +discontinue my forest rides; but I entertained no apprehensions of treachery, +and was more on horseback than ever. I never stir out without +being well armed, nor sleep without pistols. They knew that I +never missed my aim; perhaps this saved me.”</p> +<p>An event occurred at this time at Ravenna that made a deep impression +on Lord Byron. The commandant of the place, who, though suspected +of being secretly a Carbonaro, was too powerful a man to be arrested, +was assassinated opposite to his residence. The measures adopted +to screen the murderer proved, in the opinion of his Lordship, that +the assassination had taken place by order of the police, and that the +spot where it was perpetrated had been selected by choice. Byron +at the moment had his foot in the stirrup, and his horse started at +the report of the shot. On looking round he saw a man throw down +a carbine and run away, and another stretched on the pavement near him. +On hastening to the spot, he found it was the commandant; a crowd collected, +but no one offered any assistance. His Lordship directed his servant +to lift the bleeding body into the palace—he assisted himself +in the act, though it was represented to him that he might incur the +displeasure of the government—and the gentleman was already dead. +His adjutant followed the body into the house. “I remember,” +says his Lordship, “his lamentation over him—‘Poor +devil he would not have harmed a dog.’”</p> +<p>It was from the murder of this commandant that the poet sketched +the scene of the assassination in the fifth canto of <i>Don Juan.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> The other evening (’twas on Friday last),<br /> This +is a fact, and no poetic fable—<br /> Just as +my great coat was about me cast,<br /> My +hat and gloves still lying on the table,<br /> I heard +a shot—’twas eight o’clock scarce past,<br /> And +running out as fast as I was able,<br />I found the military commandant<br />Stretch’d +in the street, and able scarce to pant.</p> +<p> Poor fellow! for some reason, surely bad,<br /> They +had him slain with five slugs, and left him there<br /> To +perish on the pavement: so I had<br /> Him +borne into the house, and up the stair;<br />The man was gone: in some +Italian quarrel<br />Kill’d by five bullets from an old gun-barrel.</p> +<p> The scars of his old wounds were near his new,<br /> Those +honourable scars which bought him fame,<br /> And horrid +was the contrast to the view—<br /> But +let me quit the theme, as such things claim<br /> Perhaps +ev’n more attention than is due<br /> From +me: I gazed (as oft I’ve gazed the same)<br />To try if I could +wrench aught out of death<br />Which should confirm, or shake, or make +a faith.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Whether <i>Marino Faliero</i> was written at Ravenna or completed +there, I have not ascertained, but it was planned at Venice, and as +far back as 1817. I believe this is considered about the most +ordinary performance of all Lord Byron’s works; but if it is considered +with reference to the time in which it was written, it will probably +be found to contain many great and impressive passages. Has not +the latter part of the second scene in the first act reference to the +condition of Venice when his Lordship was there? And is not the +description which Israel Bertuccio gives of the conspirators applicable +to, as it was probably derived from, the Carbonari, with whom there +is reason to say Byron was himself disposed to take a part?</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Know, then, that there are met and sworn in secret<br />A band of +brethren, valiant hearts and true;<br />Men who have proved all fortunes, +and have long<br />Grieved over that of Venice, and have right<br />To +do so; having served her in all climes,<br />And having rescued her +from foreign foes,<br />Would do the same for those within her walls.<br />They +are not numerous, nor yet too few<br />For their great purpose; they +have arms, and means,<br />And hearts, and hopes, and faith, and patient +courage.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>This drama, to be properly appreciated, both in its taste and feeling +should be considered as addressed to the Italians of the epoch at which +it was written. Had it been written in the Italian instead of +the English language, and could have come out in any city of Italy, +the effect would have been prodigious. It is, indeed, a work not +to be estimated by the delineations of character nor the force of passion +expressed in it, but altogether by the apt and searching sarcasm of +the political allusions. Viewed with reference to the time and +place in which it was composed, it would probably deserve to be ranked +as a high and bold effort: simply as a drama, it may not be entitled +to rank above tragedies of the second or third class. But I mean +not to set my opinion of this work against that of the public, the English +public; all I contend for is, that it possesses many passages of uncommon +beauty, and that its chief tragic merit consists in its political indignation; +but above all, that is another and a strong proof too, of what I have +been endeavouring to show, that the power of the poet consisted in giving +vent to his own feelings, and not, like his great brethren, or even +his less, in the invention of situations or of appropriate sentiments. +It is, perhaps, as it stands, not fit to succeed in representation; +but it is so rich in matter that it would not be a difficult task to +make out of little more than the third part a tragedy which would not +dishonour the English stage.</p> +<p>I have never been able to understand why it has been so often supposed +that Lord Byron was actuated in the composition of his different works +by any other motive than enjoyment: perhaps no poet had ever less of +an ulterior purpose in his mind during the fits of inspiration (for +the epithet may be applied correctly to him and to the moods in which +he was accustomed to write) than this singular and impassioned man. +Those who imagine that he had any intention to impair the reverence +due to religion, or to weaken the hinges of moral action, give him credit +for far more design and prospective purpose than he possessed. +They could have known nothing of the man, the main defect of whose character, +in relation to everything, was in having too little of the element or +principle of purpose. He was a thing of impulses, and to judge +of what he either said or did, as the results of predetermination, was +not only to do the harshest injustice, but to show a total ignorance +of his character. His whole fault, the darkest course of those +flights and deviations from propriety which have drawn upon him the +severest animadversion, lay in the unbridled state of his impulses. +He felt, but never reasoned. I am led to make these observations +by noticing the ungracious, or, more justly, the illiberal spirit in +which <i>The Prophecy of Dante</i>, which was published with the <i>Marino +Faliero</i>, has been treated by the anonymous author of <i>Memoirs +of the Life and Writings of Lord Byron.</i></p> +<p>Of <i>The Prophecy of Dante</i> I am no particular admirer. +It contains, unquestionably, stanzas of resounding energy, but the general +verse of the poem is as harsh and abrupt as the clink and clang of the +cymbal; moreover, even for a prophecy, it is too obscure, and though +it possesses abstractedly too many fine thoughts, and too much of the +combustion of heroic passion to be regarded as a failure, yet it will +never be popular. It is a quarry, however, of very precious poetical +expression.</p> +<p>It was written at Ravenna, and at the suggestion of the Guiccioli, +to whom it is dedicated in a sonnet, prettily but inharmoniously turned. +Like all his other best performances, this rugged but masterly composition +draws its highest interest from himself and his own feelings, and can +only be rightly appreciated by observing how fitly many of the bitter +breathings of Dante apply to his own exiled and outcast condition. +For, however much he was himself the author of his own banishment, he +felt when he wrote these haughty verses that he had been sometimes shunned.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVI</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>The Tragedy of “Sardanapalus” considered, with Reference +to Lord Byron’s own Circumstances</i>—<i>“Cain”</i></p> +<p>Among the mental enjoyments which endeared Ravenna to Lord Byron, +the composition of <i>Sardanapalus</i> may be reckoned the chief. +It seems to have been conceived in a happier mood than any of all his +other works; for, even while it inculcates the dangers of voluptuous +indulgence, it breathes the very essence of benevolence and philosophy. +Pleasure takes so much of the character of virtue in it, that but for +the moral taught by the consequences, enjoyment might be mistaken for +duty. I have never been able to satisfy myself in what the resemblance +consists, but from the first reading it has always appeared to me that +there was some elegant similarity between the characters of Sardanapalus +and Hamlet, and my inclination has sometimes led me to imagine that +the former was the nobler conception of the two.</p> +<p>The Assyrian monarch, like the Prince of Denmark, is highly endowed, +capable of the greatest undertakings; he is yet softened by a philosophic +indolence of nature that makes him undervalue the enterprises of ambition, +and all those objects in the attainment of which so much of glory is +supposed to consist. They are both alike incapable of rousing +themselves from the fond reveries of moral theory, even when the strongest +motives are presented to them. Hamlet hesitates to act, though +his father’s spirit hath come from death to incite him; and Sardanapalus +derides the achievements that had raised his ancestors to an equality +with the gods.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Thou wouldst have me go<br />Forth as a conqueror.—By +all the stars<br />Which the Chaldeans read! the restless slaves<br />Deserve +that I should curse them with their wishes<br />And lead them forth +to glory.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Again:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The ungrateful and ungracious slaves! they murmur<br />Because I +have not shed their blood, nor led them<br />To dry into the deserts’ +dust by myriads,<br />Or whiten with their bones the banks of Ganges,<br />Nor +decimated them with savage laws,<br />Nor sweated them to build up pyramids<br />Or +Babylonian walls.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The nothingness of kingly greatness and national pride were never +before so finely contemned as by the voluptuous Assyrian, and were the +scorn not mitigated by the skilful intermixture of mercifulness and +philanthropy, the character would not be endurable. But when the +same voice which pronounced contempt on the toils of honour says,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Enough<br />For me if I can make +my subjects feel<br />The weight of human misery less,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>it is impossible to repress the liking which the humane spirit of +that thought is calculated to inspire. Nor is there any want of +dignity in Sardanapalus, even when lolling softest in his luxury.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Must I consume my life—this little life—<br />In guarding +against all may make it less!<br />It is not worth so much—It +were to die<br />Before my hour to live in dread of death. . . .<br />Till +now no drop of an Assyrian vein<br />Hath flow’d for me, nor hath +the smallest coin<br />Of Nineveh’s vast treasure e’er been +lavish’d<br />On objects which could cost her sons a tear.<br />If +then they hate me ’tis because I hate not,<br />If they rebel +’tis because I oppress not.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>This is imagined in the true tone of Epicurean virtue, and it rises +to magnanimity when he adds in compassionate scorn,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Oh, men! ye must be ruled with scythes, not sceptres,<br />And mow’d +down like the grass, else all we reap<br />Is rank abundance and a rotten +harvest<br />Of discontents infecting the fair soil,<br />Making a desert +of fertility.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>But the graciousness in the conception of the character of Sardanapalus, +is not to be found only in these sentiments of his meditations, but +in all and every situation in which the character is placed. When +Salamenes bids him not sheath his sword—</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>’Tis the sole sceptre left you now with safety,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>the king replies—</p> +<p>“A heavy one;” and subjoins, as if to conceal his distaste +for war, by ascribing a dislike to the sword itself,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The hilt, too, hurts my hand.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>It may be asked why I dwell so particularly on the character of Sardanapalus. +It is admitted that he is the most heroic of voluptuaries, the most +philosophical of the licentious. The first he is undoubtedly, +but he is not licentious; and in omitting to make him so, the poet has +prevented his readers from disliking his character upon principle. +It was a skilful stroke of art to do this; had it been otherwise, and +had there been no affection shown for the Ionian slave, Sardanapalus +would have engaged no sympathy. It is not, however, with respect +to the ability with which the character has been imagined, nor to the +poetry with which it is invested, that I have so particularly made it +a subject of criticism; it was to point out how much in it Lord Byron +has interwoven of his own best nature.</p> +<p>At the time when he was occupied with this great work, he was confessedly +in the enjoyment of the happiest portion of his life. The Guiccioli +was to him a Myrrha, but the Carbonari were around, and in the controversy, +in which Sardanapalus is engaged, between the obligations of his royalty +and his inclinations for pleasure, we have a vivid insight of the cogitation +of the poet, whether to take a part in the hazardous activity which +they were preparing, or to remain in the seclusion and festal repose +of which he was then in possession. The Assyrian is as much Lord +Byron as Childe Harold was, and bears his lineaments in as clear a likeness, +as a voluptuary unsated could do those of the emaciated victim of satiety. +Over the whole drama, and especially in some of the speeches of Sardanapalus, +a great deal of fine but irrelevant poetry and moral reflection has +been profusely spread; but were the piece adapted to the stage, these +portions would of course be omitted, and the character denuded of them +would then more fully justify the idea which I have formed of it, than +it may perhaps to many readers do at present, hidden as it is, both +in shape and contour, under an excess of ornament.</p> +<p>That the character of Myrrha was also drawn from life, and that the +Guiccioli was the model, I have no doubt. She had, when most enchanted +by her passion for Byron—at the very time when the drama was written—many +sources of regret; and he was too keen an observer, and of too jealous +a nature, not to have marked every shade of change in her appearance, +and her every moment of melancholy reminiscence; so that, even though +she might never have given expression to her sentiments, still such +was her situation, that it could not but furnish him with fit suggestions +from which to fill up the moral being of the Ionian slave. Were +the character of Myrrha scanned with this reference, while nothing could +be discovered to detract from the value of the composition, a great +deal would be found to lessen the merit of the poet’s invention. +He had with him the very being in person whom he has depicted in the +drama, of dispositions and endowments greatly similar, and in circumstances +in which she could not but feel as Myrrha is supposed to have felt—and +it must be admitted, that he has applied the good fortune of that incident +to a beautiful purpose.</p> +<p>This, however, is not all that the tragedy possesses of the author. +The character of Zarina is, perhaps, even still more strikingly drawn +from life. There are many touches in the scene with her which +he could not have imagined, without thinking of his own domestic disasters. +The first sentiment she utters is truly conceived in the very frame +and temper in which Byron must have wished his lady to think of himself, +and he could not embody it without feeling <i>that</i>—</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> How many a year has pass’d,<br />Though we +are still so young, since we have met<br />Which I have borne in widowhood +of heart.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The following delicate expression has reference to his having left +his daughter with her mother, and unfolds more of his secret feelings +on the subject than anything he has expressed more ostentatiously elsewhere:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>I wish’d to thank you, that you have not divided<br />My heart +from all that’s left it now to love.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>And what Sardanapalus says of his children is not less applicable +to Byron, and is true:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Deem not<br />I have not done +you justice: rather make them<br />Resemble your own line, than their +own sire;<br />I trust them with you—to you.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>And when Zarina says,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> They ne’er<br />Shall know +from me aught but what may honour<br />Their father’s memory,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>he puts in her mouth only a sentiment which he knew, if his wife +never expressed to him, she profoundly acknowledged in resolution to +herself. The whole of this scene is full of the most penetrating +pathos; and did the drama not contain, in every page, indubitable evidence +to me, that he has shadowed out in it himself his wife, and his mistress, +this little interview would prove a vast deal in confirmation of the +opinion so often expressed, that where his genius was most in its element, +it was when it dealt with his own sensibilities and circumstances. +It is impossible to read the following speech, without a conviction +that it was written at Lady Byron:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> My gentle, wrong’d Zarina!<br />I am the +very slave of circumstance<br />And impulse—borne away with every +breath!<br />Misplaced upon the throne—misplaced in life.<br />I +know not what I could have been, but feel<br />I am not what I should +be—let it end.<br />But take this with thee: if I was not form’d<br />To +prize a love like thine—a mind like thine—<br />Nor dote +even on thy beauty—as I’ve doted<br />On lesser charms, +for no cause save that such<br />Devotion was a duty, and I hated<br />All +that look’d like a chain for me or others<br />(This even rebellion +must avouch); yet hear<br />These words, perhaps among my last—that +none<br />E’er valued more thy virtues, though he knew not<br />To +profit by them.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>At Ravenna <i>Cain</i> was also written; a dramatic poem, in some +degree, chiefly in its boldness, resembling the ancient mysteries of +the monasteries before the secular stage was established. This +performance, in point of conception, is of a sublime order. The +object of the poem is to illustrate the energy and the art of Lucifer +in accomplishing the ruin of the first-born. By an unfair misconception, +the arguments of Lucifer have been represented as the sentiments of +the author upon some imaginary warranty derived from the exaggerated +freedom of his life; and yet the moral tendency of the reflections are +framed in a mood of reverence as awful towards Omnipotence as the austere +divinity of Milton. It would be presumption in me, however, to +undertake the defence of any question in theology; but I have not been +sensible to the imputed impiety, while I have felt in many passages +influences that have their being amid the shadows and twilights of “old +religion”;</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> “Stupendous spirits<br />That mock the pride +of man, and people space<br />With life and mystical predominance.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The morning hymns and worship with which the mystery opens are grave, +solemn, and scriptural, and the dialogue which follows with Cain is +no less so: his opinion of the tree of life is, I believe, orthodox; +but it is daringly expressed: indeed, all the sentiments ascribed to +Cain are but the questions of the sceptics. His description of +the approach of Lucifer would have shone in the <i>Paradise Lost.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> A shape like to the angels,<br />Yet of a sterner +and a sadder aspect,<br />Of spiritual essence. Why do I quake?<br />Why +should I fear him more than other spirits<br />Whom I see daily wave +their fiery swords<br />Before the gates round which I linger oft<br />In +twilight’s hour, to catch a glimpse of those<br />Gardens which +are my just inheritance,<br />Ere the night closes o’er the inhibited +walls,<br />And the immortal trees which overtop<br />The cherubim-defended +battlements?<br />I shrink not from these, the fire-arm’d angels;<br />Why +should I quail from him who now approaches?<br />Yet he seems mightier +far than them, nor less<br />Beauteous; and yet not all as beautiful<br />As +he hath been, or might be: sorrow seems<br />Half of his immortality.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>There is something spiritually fine in this conception of the terror +or presentiment of coming evil. The poet rises to the sublime +in making Lucifer first inspire Cain with the knowledge of his immortality—a +portion of truth which hath the efficacy of falsehood upon the victim; +for Cain, feeling himself already unhappy, knowing that his being cannot +be abridged, has the less scruple to desire to be as Lucifer, “mighty.” +The whole speech of Lucifer, beginning,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Souls who dare use their immortality,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>is truly satanic; a daring and dreadful description given by everlasting +despair of the Deity.</p> +<p>But, notwithstanding its manifold immeasurable imaginations, <i>Cain</i> +is only a polemical controversy, the doctrines of which might have been +better discussed in the pulpit of a college chapel. As a poem +it is greatly unequal; many passages consist of mere metaphysical disquisition, +but there are others of wonderful scope and energy. It is a thing +of doubts and dreams and reveries—dim and beautiful, yet withal +full of terrors. The understanding finds nothing tangible; but +amid dread and solemnity, sees only a shapen darkness with eloquent +gestures. It is an argument invested with the language of oracles +and omens, conceived in some religious trance, and addressed to spirits.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Removal to Pisa</i>—<i>The Lanfranchi Palace</i>—<i>Affair +with the Guard at Pisa</i>—<i>Removal to Monte Nero</i>—<i>Junction +with Mr Hunt</i>—<i>Mr Shelley’s Letter</i></p> +<p>The unhappy distrusts and political jealousies of the times obliged +Lord Byron, with the Gambas, the family of the Guiccioli, to remove +from Ravenna to Pisa. In this compulsion he had no cause to complain; +a foreigner meddling with the politics of the country in which he was +only accidentally resident, could expect no deferential consideration +from the government. It has nothing to do with the question whether +his Lordship was right or wrong in his principles. The government +was in the possession of the power, and in self-defence he could expect +no other course towards him than what he did experience. He was +admonished to retreat: he did so. Could he have done otherwise, +he would not. He would have used the Austrian authority as ill +as he was made to feel it did him.</p> +<p>In the autumn of 1821, Lord Byron removed from Ravenna to Pisa, where +he hired the Lanfranchi palace for a year—one of those massy marble +piles which appear</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“So old, as if they had for ever stood—<br />So strong, +as if they would for ever stand!”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Both in aspect and character it was interesting to the boding fancies +of the noble tenant. It is said to have been constructed from +a design of Michael Angelo; and in the grandeur of its features exhibits +a bold and colossal style not unworthy of his genius.</p> +<p>The Lanfranchi family, in the time of Dante, were distinguished in +the factions of those days, and one of them has received his meed of +immortality from the poet, as the persecutor of Ugolino. They +are now extinct, and their traditionary reputation is illustrated by +the popular belief in the neighbourhood, that their ghosts are restless, +and still haunt their former gloomy and gigantic habitation.</p> +<p>The building was too vast for the establishment of Lord Byron, and +he occupied only the first floor.</p> +<p>The life he led at this period was dull and unvaried. Billiards, +conversations, reading, and occasionally writing, constituted the regular +business of the day. In the cool of the afternoon, he sometimes +went out in his carriage, oftener on horseback, and generally amused +himself with pistol practice at a five-paul piece. He dined at +half an hour after sunset, and then drove to Count Gamba’s, where +he passed several hours with the Countess Guiccioli, who at that time +still resided with her father. On his return he read or wrote +till the night was far spent, or rather till the morning was come again, +sipping at intervals spirits diluted with water, as medicine to counteract +some nephritic disorder to which he considered himself liable.</p> +<p>Notwithstanding the tranquillity of this course of life, he was accidentally +engaged in a transaction which threatened unpleasant consequences, and +had a material effect on his comfort. On the 21st of March, 1822, +as he was returning from his usual ride, in company with several of +his friends, a hussar officer, at full speed, dashed through the party, +and violently jostled one of them. Lord Byron, with his characteristic +impetuosity, instantly pushed forwards, and the rest followed, and overtook +the hussar. His Lordship inquired what he meant by the insult; +but for answer, received the grossest abuse: on which he and one of +his companions gave their cards, and passed on. The officer followed, +hallooing, and threatening with his hand on his sabre. They were +now near the Paggia gate. During this altercation, a common artilleryman +interfered, and called out to the hussar, “Why don’t you +arrest them?—command us to arrest them.” Upon which +the officer gave the word to the guard at the gate. His Lordship, +hearing the order, spurred his horse, and one of his party doing the +same, they succeeded in forcing their way through the soldiers, while +the gate was closed on the rest of the party, with whom an outrageous +scuffle ensued.</p> +<p>Lord Byron, on reaching his palace, gave directions to inform the +police, and, not seeing his companions coming up, rode back towards +the gate. On his way the hussar met him, and said, “Are +you satisfied?”—“No: tell me your name!”—“Serjeant-major +Masi.” One of his Lordship’s servants, who at this +moment joined them, seized the hussar’s horse by the bridle, but +his master commanded him to let it go. The hussar then spurred +his horse through the crowd, which by this time had collected in front +of the Lanfranchi palace, and in the attempt was wounded by a pitchfork. +Several of the servants were arrested, and imprisoned: and, during the +investigation of the affair before the police, Lord Byron’s house +was surrounded by the dragoons belonging to Serjeant-major Masi’s +troop, who threatened to force the doors. The result upon these +particulars was not just; all Lord Byron’s Italian servants were +banished from Pisa; and with them the father and brother of the Guiccioli, +who had no concern whatever in the affair. Lord Byron himself +was also advised to quit the town, and, as the Countess accompanied +her father, he soon after joined them at Leghorn, and passed six weeks +at Monte Nero, a country house in the vicinity of that city.</p> +<p>It was during his Lordship’s residence at Monte Nero, that +an event took place—his junction with Mr Leigh Hunt—which +had some effect both on his literary and his moral reputation. +Previous to his departure from England, there had been some intercourse +between them—Byron had been introduced by Moore to Hunt, when +the latter was suffering imprisonment for the indiscretion of his pen, +and by his civility had encouraged him, perhaps, into some degree of +forgetfulness as to their respective situations in society.—Mr +Hunt at no period of their acquaintance appears to have been sufficiently +sensible that a man of positive rank has it always in his power, without +giving anything like such a degree of offence as may be resented otherwise +than by estrangement, to inflict mortification, and, in consequence, +presumed too much to an equality with his Lordship—at least this +is the impression his conduct made upon me, from the familiarity of +his dedicatory epistle prefixed to <i>Rimini</i> to their riding out +at Pisa together dressed alike—“We had blue frock-coats, +white waistcoats and trousers, and velvet caps, <i>à la Raphael</i>, +and cut a gallant figure.” I do not discover on the part +of Lord Byron, that his Lordship ever forgot his rank; nor was he a +personage likely to do so; in saying, therefore, that Mr Hunt presumed +upon his condescension, I judge entirely by his own statement of facts. +I am not undertaking a defence of his lordship, for the manner in which +he acted towards Mr Hunt, because it appears to me to have been, in +many respects, mean; but I do think there was an original error, a misconception +of himself on the part of Mr Hunt, that drew down about him a degree +of humiliation that he might, by more self-respect, have avoided. +However, I shall endeavour to give as correct a summary of the whole +affair as the materials before me will justify.</p> +<p>The occasion of Hunt’s removal to Italy will be best explained +by quoting the letter from his friend Shelley, by which he was induced +to take that obviously imprudent step.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“<i>Pisa</i>, <i>Aug</i>. 26, 1821.</p> +<p>“MY DEAREST FRIEND,—Since I last wrote to you, I have +been on a visit to Lord Byron at Ravenna. The result of this visit +was a determination on his part to come and live at Pisa, and I have +taken the finest palace on the Lung’ Arno for him. But the +material part of my visit consists in a message which he desires me +to give you, and which I think ought to add to your determination—for +such a one I hope you have formed—of restoring your shattered +health and spirits by a migration to these ‘regions mild, of calm +and serene air.’</p> +<p>“He proposes that you should come, and go shares with him and +me in a periodical work to be conducted here, in which each of the contracting +parties should publish all their original compositions, and share the +profits. He proposed it to Moore, but for some reason it was never +brought to bear. There can be no doubt that the profits of any +scheme in which you and Lord Byron engage must, for various yet co-operating +reasons, be very great. As to myself, I am, for the present, only +a sort of link between you and him, until you can know each other, and +effectuate the arrangement; since (to intrust you with a secret, which +for your sake I withhold from Lord Byron) nothing would induce me to +share in the profits, and still less in the borrowed splendour of such +a partnership. You and he, in different manners, would be equal, +and would bring in a different manner, but in the same proportion, equal +stocks of reputation and success. Do not let my frankness with +you, nor my belief that you deserve it more than Lord Byron, have the +effect of deterring you from assuming a station in modern literature, +which the universal voice of my contemporaries forbids me either to +stoop or aspire to. I am, and I desire to be, nothing.</p> +<p>“I did not ask Lord Byron to assist me in sending a remittance +for your journey; because there are men, however excellent, from whom +we would never receive an obligation in the worldly sense of the word; +and I am as jealous for my friend as for myself. I, as you know, +have it not; but I suppose that at last I shall make up an impudent +face, and ask Horace Smith to add to the many obligations he has conferred +on me. I know I need only ask.” . . .</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Now, before proceeding farther, it seems from this epistle, and there +is no reason to question Shelley’s veracity, that Lord Byron was +the projector of <i>The Liberal</i>; that Hunt’s political notoriety +was mistaken for literary reputation, and that there was a sad lack +of common sense in the whole scheme.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXVIII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Mr Hunt arrives in Italy</i>—<i>Meeting with Lord Byron</i>—<i>Tumults +in the House</i>—<i>Arrangements for Mr Hunt’s Family</i>—<i>-Extent +of his Obligations to Lord Byron</i>—<i>Their Copartnery</i>—<i>Meanness +of the whole Business</i></p> +<p>On receiving Mr Shelley’s letter, Mr Hunt prepared to avail +himself of the invitation which he was the more easily enabled to do, +as his friend, notwithstanding what he had intimated, borrowed two hundred +pounds from Lord Byron, and remitted to him. He reached Leghorn +soon after his Lordship had taken up his temporary residence at Monte +Nero.</p> +<p>The meeting with his Lordship was in so many respects remarkable, +that the details of it cannot well be omitted. The day was very +hot; and when Hunt reached the house he found the hottest-looking habitation +he had ever seen. Not content with having a red wash over it, +the red was the most unseasonable of all reds—a salmon-colour; +but the greatest of all heats was within.</p> +<p>Lord Byron was grown so fat that he scarcely knew him; and was dressed +in a loose nankeen jacket and white trousers, his neckcloth open, and +his hair in thin ringlets about his throat; altogether presenting a +very different aspect from the compact, energetic, and curly-headed +person whom Hunt had known in England.</p> +<p>His Lordship took the stranger into an inner room, and introduced +him to a young lady who was in a state of great agitation. This +was the Guiccioli; presently her brother also, in great agitation, entered, +having his arm in a sling. This scene and confusion had arisen +from a quarrel among the servants, in which the young Count, having +interfered, had been stabbed. He was very angry, the Countess +was more so, and would not listen to the comments of Lord Byron, who +was for making light of the matter. Indeed, it looked somewhat +serious, for though the stab was not much, the inflicter threatened +more, and was at that time revengefully keeping watch, with knotted +brows, under the portico, with the avowed intention of assaulting the +first person who issued forth. He was a sinister-looking, meager +caitiff, with a red cap—gaunt, ugly, and unshaven; his appearance +altogether more squalid and miserable than Englishmen would conceive +it possible to find in such an establishment. An end, however, +was put to the tragedy by the fellow throwing himself on a bench, and +bursting into tears—wailing and asking pardon for his offence, +and perfecting his penitence by requesting Lord Byron to kiss him in +token of forgiveness. In the end, however, he was dismissed; and +it being arranged that Mr Hunt should move his family to apartments +in the Lanfranchi palace at Pisa, that gentleman returned to Leghorn.</p> +<p>The account which Mr Hunt has given, in his memoir of Lord Byron, +is evidently written under offended feeling; and, in consequence, though +he does not appear to have been much indebted to the munificence of +his Lordship, the tendency is to make his readers sensible that he was, +if not ill used, disappointed. The Casa Lanfranchi was a huge +and gaunt building, capable, without inconvenience or intermixture, +of accommodating several families. It was, therefore, not a great +favour in his Lordship, considering that he had invited Mr Hunt from +England, to become a partner with him in a speculation purely commercial, +to permit him to occupy the ground-floor or flat, as it would be called +in Scotland. The apartments being empty, furniture was necessary, +and the plainest was provided; good of its kind and respectable, it +yet could not have cost a great deal. It was chosen by Mr Shelley, +who intended to make a present of it to Mr Hunt; but when the apartments +were fitted up, Lord Byron insisted upon paying the account, and to +that extent Mr Hunt incurred a pecuniary obligation to his Lordship. +The two hundred pounds already mentioned was a debt to Mr Shelley, who +borrowed the money from Lord Byron.</p> +<p>Soon after Mr Hunt’s family were settled in their new lodgings, +Shelley returned to Leghorn, with the intention of taking a sea excursion—in +the course of which he was lost: Lord Byron knowing how much Hunt was +dependent on that gentleman, immediately offered him the command of +his purse, and requested to be considered as standing in the place of +Shelley, his particular friend. This was both gentlemanly and +generous, and the offer was accepted, but with feelings neither just +nor gracious: “Stern necessity and a large family compelled me,” +says Mr Hunt, “and during our residence at Pisa I had from him, +or rather from his steward, to whom he always sent me for the money, +and who doled it out to me as if my disgraces were being counted, the +sum of seventy pounds.”</p> +<p>“This sum,” he adds, “together with the payment +of our expenses when we accompanied him from Pisa to Genoa, and thirty +pounds with which he enabled us subsequently to go from Genoa to Florence, +was all the money I ever received from Lord Byron, exclusive of the +two hundred pounds, which, in the first instance, he made a debt of +Mr Shelley, by taking his bond.”—The whole extent of the +pecuniary obligation appears certainly not to have exceeded five hundred +pounds; no great sum—but little or great, the manner in which +it was recollected reflects no credit either on the head or heart of +the debtor.</p> +<p>Mr Hunt, in extenuation of the bitterness with which he has spoken +on the subject, says, that “Lord Byron made no scruple of talking +very freely of me and mine.” It may, therefore, be possible, +that Mr Hunt had cause for his resentment, and to feel the humiliation +of being under obligations to a mean man; at the same time Lord Byron, +on his side, may upon experience have found equal reason to repent of +his connection with Mr Hunt. And it is certain that each has sought +to justify, both to himself and to the world, the rupture of a copartnery +which ought never to have been formed. But his Lordship’s +conduct is the least justifiable. He had allured Hunt to Italy +with flattering hopes; he had a perfect knowledge of his hampered circumstances, +and he was thoroughly aware that, until their speculation became productive, +he must support him. To the extent of about five hundred pounds +he did so: a trifle, considering the glittering anticipations of their +scheme.</p> +<p>Viewing their copartnery, however, as a mere commercial speculation, +his Lordship’s advance could not be regarded as liberal, and no +modification of the term munificence or patronage could be applied to +it. But, unless he had harassed Hunt for the repayment of the +money, which does not appear to have been the case, nor could he morally, +perhaps even legally, have done so, that gentleman had no cause to complain. +The joint adventure was a failure, and except a little repining on the +part of the one for the loss of his advance, and of grudging on that +of the other for the waste of his time, no sharper feeling ought to +have arisen between them. But vanity was mingled with their golden +dreams. Lord Byron mistook Hunt’s political notoriety for +literary reputation, and Mr Hunt thought it was a fine thing to be chum +and partner with so renowned a lord. After all, however, the worst +which can be said of it is, that formed in weakness it could produce +only vexation.</p> +<p>But the dissolution of the vapour with which both parties were so +intoxicated, and which led to their quarrel, might have occasioned only +amusement to the world, had it not left an ignoble stigma on the character +of Lord Byron, and given cause to every admirer of his genius to deplore, +that he should have so forgotten his dignity and fame.</p> +<p>There is no disputing the fact, that his Lordship, in conceiving +the plan of <i>The Liberal</i>, was actuated by sordid motives, and +of the basest kind, inasmuch as it was intended that the popularity +of the work should rest upon satire; or, in other words, on the ability +to be displayed by it in the art of detraction. Being disappointed +in his hopes of profit, he shuffled out of the concern as meanly as +any higgler could have done who had found himself in a profitless business +with a disreputable partner. There is no disguising this unvarnished +truth; and though his friends did well in getting the connection ended +as quickly as possible, they could not eradicate the original sin of +the transaction, nor extinguish the consequences which it of necessity +entailed. Let me not, however, be misunderstood: my objection +to the conduct of Byron does not lie against the wish to turn his extraordinary +talents to profitable account, but to the mode in which he proposed +to, and did, employ them. Whether Mr Hunt was or was not a fit +copartner for one of his Lordship’s rank and celebrity, I do not +undertake to judge; but any individual was good enough for that vile +prostitution of his genius, to which, in an unguarded hour, he submitted +for money. Indeed, it would be doing injustice to compare the +motives of Mr Hunt in the business with those by which Lord Byron was +infatuated. He put nothing to hazard; happen what might, he could +not be otherwise than a gainer; for if profit failed, it could not be +denied that the “foremost” poet of all the age had discerned +in him either the promise or the existence of merit, which he was desirous +of associating with his own. This advantage Mr Hunt did gain by +the connection; and it is his own fault that he cannot be recollected +as the associate of Byron, but only as having attempted to deface his +monument.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XXXIX</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Mr Shelley</i>—<i>Sketch of his Life</i>—<i>His Death</i>—<i>The +Burning of his Body</i>, <i>and the Return of the Mourners</i></p> +<p>It has been my study in writing these sketches to introduce as few +names as the nature of the work would admit of; but Lord Byron connected +himself with persons who had claims to public consideration on account +of their talents; and, without affectation, it is not easy to avoid +taking notice of his intimacy with some of them, especially, if in the +course of it any circumstance came to pass which was in itself remarkable, +or likely to have produced an impression on his Lordship’s mind. +His friendship with Mr Shelley, mentioned in the preceding chapter, +was an instance of this kind.</p> +<p>That unfortunate gentleman was undoubtedly a man of genius—full +of ideal beauty and enthusiasm. And yet there was some defect +in his understanding by which he subjected himself to the accusation +of atheism. In his dispositions he is represented to have been +ever calm and amiable; and but for his metaphysical errors and reveries, +and a singular incapability of conceiving the existing state of things +as it practically affects the nature and condition of man, to have possessed +many of the gentlest qualities of humanity. He highly admired +the endowments of Lord Byron, and in return was esteemed by his Lordship; +but even had there been neither sympathy nor friendship between them, +his premature fate could not but have saddened Byron with no common +sorrow.</p> +<p>Mr Shelley was some years younger than his noble friend; he was the +eldest son of Sir Timothy Shelley, Bart., of Castle Goring, Sussex. +At the age of thirteen he was sent to Eton, where he rarely mixed in +the common amusements of the other boys; but was of a shy, reserved +disposition, fond of solitude, and made few friends. He was not +distinguished for his proficiency in the regular studies of the school; +on the contrary, he neglected them for German and chemistry. His +abilities were superior, but deteriorated by eccentricity. At +the age of sixteen he was sent to the University of Oxford, where he +soon distinguished himself by publishing a pamphlet, under the absurd +and world-defying title of <i>The Necessity of Atheism</i>; for which +he was expelled from the University.</p> +<p>The event proved fatal to his prospects in life; and the treatment +he received from his family was too harsh to win him from error. +His father, however, in a short time relented, and he was received home; +but he took so little trouble to conciliate the esteem of his friends, +that he found the house uncomfortable, and left it. He then went +to London; where he eloped with a young lady to Gretna Green. +Their united ages amounted to thirty-two; and the match being deemed +unsuitable to his rank and prospects, it so exasperated his father, +that he broke off all communication with him.</p> +<p>After their marriage the young couple resided some time in Edinburgh. +They then passed over to Ireland, which being in a state of disturbance, +Shelley took a part in politics, more reasonable than might have been +expected. He inculcated moderation.</p> +<p>About this tune he became devoted to the cultivation of his poetical +talents; but his works were sullied with the erroneous inductions of +an understanding which, inasmuch as he regarded all the existing world +in the wrong, must be considered as having been either shattered or +defective.</p> +<p>His rash marriage proved, of course, an unhappy one. After +the birth of two children, a separation, by mutual consent, took place, +and Mrs Shelley committed suicide.</p> +<p>He then married a daughter of Mr Godwin, the author of <i>Caleb Williams</i>, +and they resided for some time at Great Marlow, in Buckinghamshire, +much respected for their charity. In the meantime, his irreligious +opinions had attracted public notice, and, in consequence of his unsatisfactory +notions of the Deity, his children, probably at the instance of his +father, were taken from him by a decree of the Lord Chancellor: an event +which, with increasing pecuniary embarrassments, induced him to quit +England, with the intention of never returning.</p> +<p>Being in Switzerland when Lord Byron, after his domestic tribulations, +arrived at Geneva, they became acquainted. He then crossed the +Alps, and again at Venice renewed his friendship with his Lordship; +he thence passed to Rome, where he resided some time; and after visiting +Naples, fixed his permanent residence in Tuscany. His acquirements +were constantly augmenting, and he was without question an accomplished +person. He was, however, more of a metaphysician than a poet, +though there are splendid specimens of poetical thought in his works. +As a man, he was objected to only on account of his speculative opinions; +for he possessed many amiable qualities, was just in his intentions, +and generous to excess.</p> +<p>When he had seen Mr Hunt established in the Casa Lanfranchi with +Lord Byron at Pisa, Mr Shelley returned to Leghorn, for the purpose +of taking a sea excursion; an amusement to which he was much attached. +During a violent storm the boat was swamped, and the party on board +were all drowned. Their bodies were, however, afterwards cast +on shore; Mr Shelley’s was found near Via Reggio, and, being greatly +decomposed, and unfit to be removed, it was determined to reduce the +remains to ashes, that they might be carried to a place of sepulture. +Accordingly preparations were made for the burning.</p> +<p>Wood in abundance was found on the shore, consisting of old trees +and the wreck of vessels: the spot itself was well suited for the ceremony. +The magnificent bay of Spezzia was on the right, and Leghorn on the +left, at equal distances of about two-and-twenty miles. The headlands +project boldly far into the sea; in front lie several islands, and behind +dark forests and the cliffy Apennines. Nothing was omitted that +could exalt and dignify the mournful rites with the associations of +classic antiquity; frankincense and wine were not forgotten. The +weather was serene and beautiful, and the pacified ocean was silent, +as the flame rose with extraordinary brightness. Lord Byron was +present; but he should himself have described the scene and what he +felt.</p> +<p>These antique obsequies were undoubtedly affecting; but the return +of the mourners from the burning is the most appalling orgia, without +the horror of crime, of which I have ever heard. When the duty +was done, and the ashes collected, they dined and drank much together, +and bursting from the calm mastery with which they had repressed their +feelings during the solemnity, gave way to frantic exultation. +They were all drunk; they sang, they shouted, and their barouche was +driven like a whirlwind through the forest. I can conceive nothing +descriptive of the demoniac revelry of that flight, but scraps of the +dead man’s own song of Faust, Mephistophiles, and Ignis Fatuus, +in alternate chorus.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The limits of the sphere of dream,<br /> The bounds +of true and false are past;<br />Lead us on, thou wand’ring Gleam;<br /> Lead +us onwards, far and fast,<br />To the wide, the desert waste.</p> +<p>But see how swift, advance and shift,<br /> Trees +behind trees—row by row,<br />Now clift by clift, rocks bend and +lift,<br /> Their frowning foreheads as we go;<br />The +giant-snouted crags, ho! ho!<br /> How they snort, +and how they blow.<br />Honour her to whom honour is due,<br />Old mother +Baubo, honour to you.<br />An able sow with old Baubo upon her<br />Is +worthy of glory and worthy of honour.</p> +<p>The way is wide, the way is long,<br />But what is that for a Bedlam +throng?<br />Some on a ram, and some on a prong,<br />On poles and on +broomsticks we flutter along.</p> +<p>Every trough will be boat enough,<br />With a rag for a sail, we +can sweep through the sky.<br />Who flies not to-night, when means he +to fly?</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XL</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>“The Two Foscari”</i>—<i>“Werner”</i>—<i>“The +Deformed Transformed”</i>—<i>“Don Juan”</i>—<i>“The +Liberal”</i>—<i>Removes from Pisa to Genoa</i></p> +<p>I have never heard exactly where the tragedy of <i>The Two Foscari</i> +was written: that it was imagined in Venice is probable. The subject +is, perhaps, not very fit for a drama, for it has no action; but it +is rich in tragic materials, revenge and affection, and the composition +is full of the peculiar stuff of the poet’s own mind. The +exulting sadness with which Jacopo Foscari looks in the first scene +from the window, on the Adriatic, is Byron himself recalling his enjoyment +of the sea.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> How many a time have I<br />Cloven +with arm still lustier, heart more daring,<br />The wave all roughen’d: +with a swimmer’s stroke<br />Flinging the billows back from my +drench’d hair,<br />And laughing from my lip th’ audacious +brine<br />Which kiss’d it like a wine-cup.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The whole passage, both prelude and remainder, glows with the delicious +recollections of laying and revelling in the summer waves. But +the exile’s feeling is no less beautifully given and appropriate +to the author’s condition, far more so, indeed, than to that of +Jacopo Foscari.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Had I gone forth<br />From my +own land, like the old patriarchs, seeking<br />Another region with +their flocks and herds;<br />Had I been cast out like the Jews from +Zion,<br />Or like our fathers driven by Attila<br />From fertile Italy +to barren islets,<br />I would have given some tears to my late country,<br />And +many thoughts; but afterward address’d<br />Myself to those about +me, to create<br />A new home and first state.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>What follows is still more pathetic:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p> Ay—we but hear<br />Of the survivors’ +toil in their new lands,<br />Their numbers and success; but who can +number<br />The hearts which broke in silence of that parting,<br />Or +after their departure; of that malady <a name="citation291a"></a><a href="#footnote291a">{291a}</a><br />Which +calls up green and native fields to view<br />From the rough deep with +such identity<br />To the poor exile’s fever’d eye, that +he<br />Can scarcely be restrained from treading them?<br />That melody +<a name="citation291b"></a><a href="#footnote291b">{291b}</a> which +out of tones and tunes<br />Collects such pastime for the ling’ring +sorrow<br />Of the sad mountaineer, when far away<br />From his snow-canopy +of cliffs and clouds,<br />That he feeds on the sweet but poisonous +thought<br />And dies.—You call this weakness! It is strength,<br />I +say—the parent of all honest feeling:<br />He who loves not his +country can love nothing.</p> +<p>MARINA</p> +<p>Obey her then, ’tis she that puts thee forth.</p> +<p>JACOPO FOSCARI</p> +<p>Ay, there it is. ’Tis like a mother’s curse<br />Upon +my soul—the mark is set upon me.<br />The exiles you speak of +went forth by nations;<br />Their hands upheld each other by the way;<br />Their +tents were pitch’d together—I’m alone—<br /> Ah, +you never yet<br />Were far away from Venice—never saw<br />Her +beautiful towers in the receding distance,<br />While every furrow of +the vessel’s track<br />Seem’d ploughing deep into your +heart; you never<br />Saw day go down upon your native spires<br />So +calmly with its gold and crimson glory,<br />And after dreaming a disturbed +vision<br />Of them and theirs, awoke and found them not.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>All this speaks of the voluntary exile’s own regrets, and awakens +sympathy for the anguish which pride concealed, but unable to repress, +gave vent to in the imagined sufferings of one that was to him as Hecuba.</p> +<p>It was at Pisa that <i>Werner</i>, <i>or The Inheritance</i>, a tragedy, +was written, or at least completed. It is taken entirely from +the German’s tale, Kruitzner, published many years before, by +one of the Miss Lees, in their <i>Canterbury Tales</i>. So far +back as 1815, Byron began a drama upon the same subject, and nearly +completed an act when he was interrupted. “I have adopted,” +he says himself, “the characters, plan, and even the language +of many parts of this story”; an acknowledgment which exempts +it from that kind of criticism to which his principal works are herein +subjected.</p> +<p>But <i>The Deformed Transformed</i>, which was also written at Pisa, +is, though confessedly an imitation of Goethe’s <i>Faust</i>, +substantially an original work. In the opinion of Mr Moore, it +probably owes something to the author’s painful sensibility to +the defect in his own foot; an accident which must, from the acuteness +with which he felt it, have essentially contributed to enable him to +comprehend and to express the envy of those afflicted with irremediable +exceptions to the ordinary course of fortune, or who have been amerced +by nature of their fair proportions. But save only a part of the +first scene, the sketch will not rank among the felicitous works of +the poet. It was intended to be a satire—probably, at least—but +it is only a fragment—a failure.</p> +<p>Hitherto I have not noticed <i>Don Juan</i> otherwise than incidentally. +It was commenced in Venice, and afterward continued at intervals to +the end of the sixteenth canto, until the author left Pisa, when it +was not resumed, at least no more has been published. Strong objections +have been made to its moral tendency; but, in the opinion of many, it +is the poet’s masterpiece, and undoubtedly it displays all the +variety of his powers, combined with a quaint playfulness not found +to an equal degree in any other of his works. The serious and +pathetic portions are exquisitely beautiful; the descriptive have all +the distinctness of the best pictures in <i>Childe Harold</i>, and are, +moreover, generally drawn from nature, while the satire is for the most +part curiously associated and sparklingly witty. The characters +are sketched with amazing firmness and freedom, and though sometimes +grotesque, are yet not often overcharged. It is professedly an +epic poem, but it may be more properly described as a poetical novel. +Nor can it be said to inculcate any particular moral, or to do more +than unmantle the decorum of society. Bold and buoyant throughout, +it exhibits a free irreverent knowledge of the world, laughing or mocking +as the thought serves, in the most unexpected antitheses to the proprieties +of time, place, and circumstance.</p> +<p>The object of the poem is to describe the progress of a libertine +through life, not an unprincipled prodigal, whose profligacy, growing +with his growth, and strengthening with his strength, passes from voluptuous +indulgence into the sordid sensuality of systematic debauchery, but +a young gentleman, who, whirled by the vigour and vivacity of his animal +spirits into a world of adventures, in which his stars are chiefly in +fault for his <i>liaisons</i>, settles at last into an honourable lawgiver, +a moral speaker on divorce bills, and possibly a subscriber to the Society +for the Suppression of Vice. The author has not completed his +design, but such appears to have been the drift of it, affording ample +opportunities to unveil the foibles and follies of all sorts of men—and +women too. It is generally supposed to contain much of the author’s +own experience, but still, with all its riant knowledge of bowers and +boudoirs, it is deficient as a true limning of the world, by showing +man as if he were always ruled by one predominant appetite.</p> +<p>In the character of Donna Inez and Don José, it has been imagined +that Lord Byron has sketched himself and his lady. It may be so; +and if it were, he had by that time got pretty well over the lachrymation +of their parting. It is no longer doubtful that the twenty-seventh +stanza records a biographical fact, and the thirty-sixth his own feelings, +when,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Poor fellow! he had many things to wound him,<br />Let’s own, +since it can do no good on earth;<br />It was a trying moment that which +found him<br />Standing alone beside his desolate hearth,<br />Where +all his household gods lay shiver’d round him:<br />No choice +was left his feelings or his pride,<br />Save death or Doctors’ +Commons.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>It has been already mentioned, that while the poet was at Dr Glennie’s +academy at Dulwich, he read an account of a shipwreck, which has been +supposed to have furnished some of the most striking incidents in the +description of the disastrous voyage in the second canto in <i>Don Juan</i>. +I have not seen that work; but whatever Lord Byron may have found in +it suitable to his purpose, he has undoubtedly made good use of his +grandfather’s adventures. The incident of the spaniel is +related by the admiral.</p> +<p>In the licence of <i>Don Juan</i>, the author seems to have considered +that his wonted accuracy might be dispensed with.</p> +<p>The description of Haidee applies to an Albanian, not a Greek girl. +The splendour of her father’s house is altogether preposterous; +and the island has no resemblance to those of the Cyclades. With +the exception of Zea, his Lordship, however, did not visit them. +Some degree of error and unlike description, runs indeed through the +whole of the still life around the portrait of Haidee. The fête +which Lambro discovers on his return, is, however, prettily described; +and the dance is as perfect as true.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>And farther on a group of Grecian girls,<br />The first and tallest +her white kerchief waving,<br />Were strung together like a row of pearls,<br />Link’d +hand in hand and dancing; each too having<br />Down her white neck long +floating auburn curls.<br />Their leader sang, and bounded to her song,<br />With +choral step and voice, the virgin throng.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The account of Lambro proceeding to the house is poetically imagined; +and, in his character, may be traced a vivid likeness of Ali Pasha, +and happy illustrative allusions to the adventures of that chief.</p> +<p>The fourth canto was written at Ravenna; it is so said within itself; +and the description of Dante’s sepulchre there may be quoted for +its truth, and the sweet modulation of the moral reflection interwoven +with it.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>I pass each day where Dante’s bones are laid;<br />A little +cupola, more neat than solemn,<br />Protects his dust; but reverence +here is paid<br />To the bard’s tomb and not the warrior’s +column.<br />The time must come when both alike decay’d,<br />The +chieftain’s trophy and the poet’s volume<br />Will sink +where lie the songs and wars of earth,<br />Before Pelides’ death +or Homer’s birth.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The fifth canto was also written in Ravenna. But it is not +my intention to analyze this eccentric and meandering poem; a composition +which cannot be well estimated by extracts. Without, therefore, +dwelling at greater length on its variety and merits. I would +only observe that the general accuracy of the poet’s descriptions +is verified by that of the scenes in which Juan is placed in England, +a point the reader may determine for himself; while the vagueness of +the parts derived from books, or sketched from fancy, as contrasted +with them, justifies the opinion, that invention was not the most eminent +faculty of Byron, either in scenes or in characters. Of the demerits +of the poem it is only necessary to remark, that it has been proscribed +on account of its immorality; perhaps, however, there was more of prudery +than of equity in the decision, at least it is liable to be so considered, +so long as reprints are permitted of the older dramatists, with all +their unpruned licentiousness.</p> +<p>But the wheels of Byron’s destiny were now hurrying. +Both in the conception and composition of <i>Don Juan</i> he evinced +an increasing disregard of the world’s opinion; and the project +of <i>The Liberal</i> was still more fatal to his reputation. +Not only were the invidious eyes of bigotry now eagerly fixed upon his +conduct, but those of admiration were saddened and turned away from +him. His principles, which would have been more correctly designated +as paradoxes, were objects of jealousy to the Tuscan Government; and +it has been already seen that there was a disorderliness about the Casa +Lanfranchi which attracted the attention of the police. His situation +in Pisa became, in consequence, irksome; and he resolved to remove to +Genoa, an intention which he carried into effect about the end of September, +1822, at which period his thoughts began to gravitate towards Greece. +Having attained to the summit of his literary eminence, he grew ambitious +of trying fortune in another field of adventure.</p> +<p>In all the migrations of Lord Byron there was ever something grotesque +and desultory. In moving from Ravenna to Pisa, his caravan consisted +of seven servants, five carriages, nine horses, a monkey, a bulldog, +and a mastiff, two cats, three peafowl, a harem of hens, books, saddles, +and firearms, with a chaos of furniture nor was the exodus less fantastical; +for in addition to all his own clanjamphry, he had Mr Hunt’s miscellaneous +assemblage of chattels and chattery and little ones.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XLI</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Genoa</i>—<i>Change in the Manners of Lord Byron</i>—<i>Residence +at the Casa Saluzzi</i>—<i>“The Liberal”</i>—<i>Remarks +on the Poet’s Works in general and on Hunt’s Strictures +on his Character</i></p> +<p>Previously to their arrival at Genoa, a house had been taken for +Lord Byron and the Guiccioli in Albaro, a pleasant village on a hill, +in the vicinity of the city; it was the Casa Saluzzi, and I have been +told, that during the time he resided there, he seemed to enjoy a more +uniform and temperate gaiety than in any former period of his life. +There might have been less of sentiment in his felicity, than when he +lived at Ravenna, as he seldom wrote poetry, but he appeared to some +of his occasional visitors, who knew him in London, to have become more +agreeable and manly. I may add, at the risk of sarcasm for the +vanity, that in proof of his mellowed temper towards me, besides the +kind frankness with which he received my friend, as already mentioned, +he sent me word, by the Earl of Blesinton, that he had read my novel +of <i>The Entail</i> three times, and thought the old Leddy Grippy one +of the most living-like heroines he had ever met with. This was +the more agreeable, as I had heard within the same week, that Sir Walter +Scott had done and said nearly the same thing. Half the compliment +from two such men would be something to be proud of.</p> +<p>Lord Byron’s residence at Albaro was separate from that of +Mr Hunt, and, in consequence, they were more rarely together than when +domiciled under the same roof as at Pisa. Indeed, by this time, +if one may take Mr Hunt’s own account of the matter, they appear +to have become pretty well tired of each other. He had found out +that a peer is, as a friend, but as a plebeian, and a great poet not +always a high-minded man. His Lordship had, on his part, discovered +that something more than smartness or ingenuity is necessary to protect +patronage from familiarity. Perhaps intimate acquaintance had +also tended to enable him to appreciate, with greater accuracy, the +meretricious genius and artificial tastes of his copartner in <i>The +Liberal</i>. It is certain that he laughed at his affected admiration +of landscapes, and considered his descriptions of scenery as drawn from +pictures.</p> +<p>One day, as a friend of mine was conversing with his Lordship at +the Casa Saluzzi, on the moral impressions of magnificent scenery, he +happened to remark that he thought the view of the Alps in the evening, +from Turin, the sublimest scene he had ever beheld. “It +is impossible,” said he, “at such a time, when all the west +is golden and glowing behind them, to contemplate such vast masses of +the Deity without being awed into rest, and forgetting such things as +man and his follies.”—“Hunt,” said his Lordship, +smiling, “has no perception of the sublimity of Alpine scenery; +he calls a mountain a great impostor.”</p> +<p>In the mean time the materials for the first number of <i>The Liberal</i> +had been transmitted to London, where the manuscript of <i>The Vision +of Judgment</i> was already, and something of its quality known. +All his Lordship’s friends were disturbed at the idea of the publication. +They did not like the connection he had formed with Mr Shelley—they +liked still less the copartnery with Mr Hunt. With the justice +or injustice of these dislikes I have nothing to do. It is an +historical fact that they existed, and became motives with those who +deemed themselves the custodiers of his Lordship’s fame, to seek +a dissolution of the association.</p> +<p>The first number of <i>The Liberal</i>, containing <i>The Vision +of Judgment</i>, was received soon after the copartnery had established +themselves at Genoa, accompanied with hopes and fears. Much good +could not be anticipated from a work which outraged the loyal and decorous +sentiments of the nation towards the memory of George III. To +the second number Lord Byron contributed the <i>Heaven and Earth</i>, +a sacred drama, which has been much misrepresented in consequence of +its fraternity with <i>Don Juan</i> and <i>The Vision of Judgment</i>; +for it contains no expression to which religion can object, nor breathes +a thought at variance with the Genesis. The history of literature +affords no instance of a condemnation less justifiable, on the plea +of profanity, than that of this Mystery. That it abounds in literary +blemishes, both of plan and language, and that there are harsh jangles +and discords in the verse, is not disputed; but still it abounds in +a grave patriarchal spirit, and is echo to the oracles of Adam and Melchisedek. +It may not be worthy of Lord Byron’s genius, but it does him no +dishonour, and contains passages which accord with the solemn diapasons +of ancient devotion. The disgust which <i>The Vision of Judgment</i> +had produced, rendered it easy to persuade the world that there was +impiety in the <i>Heaven and Earth</i>, although, in point of fact, +it may be described as hallowed with the Scriptural theology of Milton. +The objections to its literary defects were magnified into sins against +worship and religion.</p> +<p><i>The Liberal</i> stopped with the fourth number, I believe. +It disappointed not merely literary men in general, but even the most +special admirers of the talents of the contributors. The main +defect of the work was a lack of knowledge. Neither in style nor +genius, nor even in general ability, was it wanting; but where it showed +learning it was not of a kind in which the age took much interest. +Moreover, the manner and cast of thinking of all the writers in it were +familiar to the public, and they were too few in number to variegate +their pages with sufficient novelty. But the main cause of the +failure was the antipathy formed and fostered against it before it appeared. +It was cried down, and it must be acknowledged that it did not much +deserve a better fate.</p> +<p>With <i>The Liberal</i> I shall close my observations on the works +of Lord Byron. They are too voluminous to be examined even in +the brief and sketchy manner in which I have considered those which +are deemed the principal. Besides, they are not, like them, all +characteristic of the author, though possessing great similarity in +style and thought to one another. Nor would such general criticism +accord with the plan of this work. Lord Byron was not always thinking +of himself; like other authors, he sometimes wrote from imaginary circumstances; +and often fancied both situations and feelings which had no reference +to his own, nor to his experience. But were the matter deserving +of the research, I am persuaded, that with Mr Moore’s work, and +the poet’s original journals, notes, and letters, innumerable +additions might be made to the list of passages which the incidents +of his own life dictated.</p> +<p>The abandonment of <i>The Liberal</i> closed his Lordship’s +connection with Mr Hunt; their friendship, if such ever really existed, +was ended long before. It is to be regretted that Byron has not +given some account of it himself; for the manner in which he is represented +to have acted towards his unfortunate partner, renders another version +of the tale desirable. At the same time—and I am not one +of those who are disposed to magnify the faults and infirmities of Byron—I +fear there is no excess of truth in Hunt’s opinion of him. +I judge by an account which Lord Byron gave himself to a mutual friend, +who did not, however, see the treatment in exactly the same light as +that in which it appeared to me. But, while I cannot regard his +Lordship’s conduct as otherwise than unworthy, still the pains +which Mr Hunt has taken to elaborate his character and dispositions +into every modification of weakness, almost justifies us in thinking +that he was treated according to his deserts. Byron had at least +the manners of a gentleman, and though not a judicious knowledge of +the world, he yet possessed prudence enough not to be always unguarded. +Mr Hunt informs us, that when he joined his Lordship at Leghorn, his +own health was impaired, and that his disease rather increased than +diminished during his residence at Pisa and Genoa; to say nothing of +the effect which the loss of his friend had on him, and the disappointment +he suffered in <i>The Liberal</i>; some excuse may, therefore, be made +for him. In such a condition, misapprehensions were natural; jocularity +might be mistaken for sarcasm, and caprice felt as insolence.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XLII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Lord Byron resolves to join the Greeks</i>—<i>Arrives at +Cephalonia</i>—<i>Greek Factions</i>—<i>Sends Emissaries +to the Grecian Chiefs</i>—<i>Writes to London about the Loan</i>—<i>To +Mavrocordato on the Dissensions</i>—<i>Embarks at lest for Missolonghi</i></p> +<p>While <i>The Liberal</i> was halting onward to its natural doom, +the attention of Lord Byron was attracted towards the struggles of Greece.</p> +<p>In that country his genius was first effectually developed; his name +was associated with many of its most romantic scenes, and the cause +was popular with all the educated and refined of Europe. He had +formed besides a personal attachment to the land, and perhaps many of +his most agreeable local associations were fixed amid the ruins of Greece, +and in her desolated valleys. The name is indeed alone calculated +to awaken the noblest feelings of humanity. The spirit of her +poets, the wisdom and the heroism of her worthies; whatever is splendid +in genius, unparalleled in art, glorious in arms, and wise in philosophy, +is associated in their highest excellence with that beautiful region.</p> +<p>Had Lord Byron never been in Greece, he was, undoubtedly, one of +those men whom the resurrection of her spirit was likeliest to interest; +but he was not also one fitted to do her cause much service. His +innate indolence, his sedentary habits, and that all-engrossing consideration +for himself, which, in every situation, marred his best impulses, were +shackles upon the practice of the stern bravery in himself which he +has so well expressed in his works.</p> +<p>It was expected when he sailed for Greece, nor was the expectation +unreasonable with those who believe imagination and passion to be of +the same element, that the enthusiasm which flamed so highly in his +verse was the spirit of action, and would prompt him to undertake some +great enterprise. But he was only an artist; he could describe +bold adventures and represent high feeling, as other gifted individuals +give eloquence to canvas and activity to marble; but he did not possess +the wisdom necessary for the instruction of councils. I do, therefore, +venture to say, that in embarking for Greece, he was not entirely influenced +by such exoterical motives as the love of glory or the aspirations of +heroism. His laurels had for some time ceased to flourish, the +sear and yellow, the mildew and decay, had fallen upon them, and he +was aware that the bright round of his fame was ovalling from the full +and showing the dim rough edge of waning.</p> +<p>He was, moreover, tired of the Guiccioli, and again afflicted with +a desire for some new object with which to be in earnest. The +Greek cause seemed to offer this, and a better chance for distinction +than any other pursuit in which he could then engage. In the spring +of 1823 he accordingly made preparations for transferring himself from +Genoa to Greece, and opened a correspondence with the leaders of the +insurrection, that the importance of his adhesion might be duly appreciated.</p> +<p>Greece, with a fair prospect of ultimate success, was at that time +as distracted in her councils as ever. Her arms had been victorious, +but the ancient jealousy of the Greek mind was unmitigated. The +third campaign had commenced, and yet no regular government had been +organized; the fiscal resources of the country were neglected: a wild +energy against the Ottomans was all that the Greeks could depend on +for continuing the war.</p> +<p>Lord Byron arrived in Cephalonia about the middle of August, 1823, +where he fixed his residence for some time. This was prudent, +but it said nothing for that spirit of enterprise with which a man engaging +in such a cause, in such a country, and with such a people, ought to +have been actuated—especially after Marco Botzaris, one of the +best and most distinguished of the chiefs, had earnestly urged him to +join him at Missolonghi. I fear that I may not be able to do justice +to Byron’s part in the affairs of Greece; but I shall try. +He did not disappoint me, for he only acted as might have been expected, +from his unsteady energies. Many, however, of his other friends +longed in vain to hear of that blaze of heroism, by which they anticipated +that his appearance in the field would be distinguished.</p> +<p>Among his earliest proceedings was the equipment of forty Suliotes, +or Albanians, whom he sent to Marco Botzaris to assist in the defence +of Missolonghi. An adventurer of more daring would have gone with +them; and when the battle was over, in which Botzaris fell, he transmitted +bandages and medicines, of which he had brought a large supply from +Italy, and pecuniary succour, to the wounded.</p> +<p>This was considerate, but there was too much consideration in all +that he did at this time, neither in unison with the impulses of his +natural character, nor consistent with the heroic enthusiasm with which +the admirers of his poetry imagined he was kindled.</p> +<p>In the mean time he had offered to advance one thousand dollars a +month for the succour of Missolonghi and the troops with Marco Botzaris; +but the government, instead of accepting the offer, intimated that they +wished previously to confer with him, which he interpreted into a desire +to direct the expenditure of the money to other purposes. In his +opinion his Lordship was probably not mistaken; but his own account +of his feeling in the business does not tend to exalt the magnanimity +of his attachment to the cause: “I will take care,” says +he, “that it is for the public cause, otherwise I will not advance +a para. The opposition say they want to cajole me, and the party +in power say the others wish to seduce me; so, between the two, I have +a difficult part to play; however, I will have nothing to do with the +factions, unless to reconcile them, if possible.”</p> +<p>It is difficult to conceive that Lord Byron, “the searcher +of dark bosoms,” could have expressed himself so weakly and with +such vanity; but the shadow of coming fate had already reached him, +and his judgment was suffering in the blight that had fallen on his +reputation. To think of the possibility of reconciling two Greek +factions, or any factions, implies a degree of ignorance of mankind, +which, unless it had been given in his Lordship’s own writing, +would not have been credible; and as to having nothing to do with the +factions, for what purpose went he to Greece, unless it was to take +a part with one of them? I abstain from saying what I think of +his hesitation in going to the government instead of sending two of +his associated adventurers, Mr Trelawney and Mr Hamilton Brown, whom +he despatched to collect intelligence as to the real state of things, +substituting their judgment for his own. When the <i>Hercules</i>, +the ship he chartered to carry him to Greece, weighed anchor, he was +committed with the Greeks, and everything short of unequivocal folly +he was bound to have done with and for them.</p> +<p>His two emissaries or envoys proceeded to Tripolizza, where they +found Colocotroni seated in the palace of the late vizier, Velhi Pasha, +in great power; the court-yard and galleries filled with armed men in +garrison, while there was no enemy at that time in the Morea able to +come against them! The Greek chieftains, like their classic predecessors, +though embarked in the same adventure, were personal adversaries to +each other. Colocotroni spoke of his compeer Mavrocordato in the +very language of Agamemnon, when he said that he had declared to him, +unless he desisted from his intrigues, he would mount him on an ass +and whip him out of the Morea; and that he had only been restrained +from doing so by the representation of his friends, who thought it would +injure their common cause. Such was the spirit of the chiefs of +the factions which Lord Byron thought it not impossible to reconcile!</p> +<p>At this time Missolonghi was in a critical state, being blockaded +both by land and sea; and the report of Trelawney to Lord Byron concerning +it, was calculated to rouse his Lordship to activity. “There +have been,” says he, “thirty battles fought and won by the +late Marco Botzaris, and his gallant tribe of Suliotes, who are shut +up in Missolonghi. If it fall, Athens will be in danger, and thousands +of throats cut: a few thousand dollars would provide ships to relieve +it; a portion of this sum is raised, and I would coin my heart to save +this key of Greece.” Bravely said! but deserving of little +attention. The fate of Missolonghi could have had no visible effect +on that of Athens.</p> +<p>The distance between these two places is more than a hundred miles, +and Lord Byron was well acquainted with the local difficulties of the +intervening country; still it was a point to which the eyes of the Greeks +were all at that time directed; and Mavrocordato, then in correspondence +with Lord Byron, and who was endeavouring to collect a fleet for the +relief of the place, induced his Lordship to undertake to provide the +money necessary for the equipment of the fleet, to the extent of twelve +thousand pounds. It was on this occasion his Lordship addressed +a letter to the Greek chiefs, that deserves to be quoted, for the sagacity +with which it suggests what may be the conduct of the great powers of +Christendom.</p> +<p>“I must frankly confess,” says he, “that unless +union and order are confirmed, all hopes of a loan will be in vain, +and all the assistance which the Greeks could expect from abroad, an +assistance which might be neither trifling nor worthless, will be suspended +or destroyed; and what is worse, the great powers of Europe, of whom +no one was an enemy to Greece, but seemed inclined to favour her in +consenting to the establishment of an independent power, will be persuaded +that the Greeks are unable to govern themselves, and will, perhaps, +undertake to arrange your disorders in such a way, as to blast the brightest +hopes you indulge, and that are indulged by your friends.”</p> +<p>In the meantime, Lord Byron was still at the villa he had hired in +Cephalonia, where his conduct was rather that of a spectator than an +ally. Colonel Stanhope, in a letter of the 26th of November, describes +him as having been there about three months, and spending his time exactly +as every one acquainted with his habits must have expected. “The +first six weeks he spent on board a merchant-vessel, and seldom went +on shore, except on business. Since that period he has lived in +a little villa in the country, in absolute retirement, Count Gamba (brother +to the Guiccioli) being his only companion.”—Such, surely, +was not exactly playing that part in the Greek cause which he had taught +the world to look for. It is true, that the accounts received +there of the Greek affairs were not then favourable. Everybody +concurred in representing the executive government as devoid of public +virtue, and actuated by avarice or personal ambition. This intelligence +was certainly not calculated to increase Lord Byron’s ardour, +and may partly excuse the causes of his personal inactivity. I +say personal, because he had written to London to accelerate the attempt +to raise a loan, and, at the suggestion of Colonel Stanhope, he addressed +a letter to Mavrocordato respecting the inevitable consequences of their +calamitous dissensions. The object of this letter was to induce +a reconciliation between the rival factions, or to throw the odium, +of having thwarted the loan, upon the Executive, and thereby to degrade +the members of it in the opinion of the people. “I am very +uneasy,” said his Lordship to the prince, “at hearing that +the dissensions of Greece still continue; and at a moment when she might +triumph over everything in general, as she has triumphed in part. +Greece is at present placed between three measures; either to reconquer +her liberty, or to become a dependence of the sovereigns of Europe, +or to return to a Turkish province; she has already the choice only +of these three alternatives. Civil war is but a road which leads +to the two latter. If she is desirous of the fate of Wallachia +and the Crimea, she may obtain it <i>to-morrow</i>; if that of Italy, +<i>the day after</i>. But if she wishes to become <i>truly Greece</i>, +<i>free and independent</i>, she must resolve <i>to-day</i>, or she +will never again have the opportunity,” etc., etc.</p> +<p>Meanwhile, the Greek people became impatient for Lord Byron to come +among them. They looked forward to his arrival as to the coming +of a Messiah. Three boats were successively despatched for him +and two of them returned, one after the other, without him. On +the 29th of December, 1823, however, his Lordship did at last embark.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XLIII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Lord Byron’s Conversations on Religion with Dr Kennedy</i></p> +<p>While Lord Byron was hesitating, in the Island of Cephalonia, about +proceeding to Greece, an occurrence took place, of which much has been +made. I allude to the acquaintance he formed with a Dr Kennedy, +the publication of whose conversations with him on religion has attracted +some degree of public attention.</p> +<p>This gentleman was originally destined for the Scottish bar, but +afterwards became a student of medicine, and entering the medical department +of the army, happened to be stationed in Cephalonia when Lord Byron +arrived. He appears to have been a man of kind dispositions, possessed +of a better heart than judgment; in all places wherever his duty bore +him he took a lively interest in the condition of the inhabitants, and +was active, both in his official and private capacity, to improve it. +He had a taste for circulating pious tracts, and zealously co-operated +in distributing copies of the Scriptures.</p> +<p>Firmly settled, himself, in a conviction of the truth of Christianity, +he was eager to make converts to his views of the doctrines; but whether +he was exactly the kind of apostle to achieve the conversion of Lord +Byron may, perhaps, be doubted. His sincerity and the disinterestedness +of his endeavours would secure to him from his Lordship an indulgent +and even patient hearing. But I fear that without some more effectual +calling, the arguments he appears to have employed were not likely to +have made Lord Byron a proselyte. His Lordship was so constituted +in his mind, and by his temperament, that nothing short of regeneration +could have made him a Christian, according to the gospel of Dr Kennedy.</p> +<p>Lord Byron had but loose feelings in religion—scarcely any. +His sensibility and a slight constitutional leaning towards superstition +and omens showed that the sense of devotion was, however, alive and +awake within him; but with him religion was a sentiment, and the convictions +of the understanding had nothing whatever to do with his creed. +That he was deeply imbued with the essence of natural piety; that he +often felt the power and being of a God thrilling in all his frame, +and glowing in his bosom, I declare my thorough persuasion; and that +he believed in some of the tenets and in the philosophy of Christianity, +as they influence the spirit and conduct of men, I am as little disposed +to doubt; especially if those portions of his works which only trend +towards the subject, and which bear the impression of fervour and earnestness, +may be admitted as evidence. But he was not a member of any particular +church, and, without a reconstruction of his mind and temperament, I +venture to say, he could not have become such; not in consequence, as +too many have represented, of any predilection, either of feeling or +principle, against Christianity, but entirely owing to an organic peculiarity +of mind. He reasoned on every topic by instinct, rather than by +induction or any process of logic; and could never be so convinced of +the truth or falsehood of an abstract proposition, as to feel it affect +the current of his actions. He may have assented to arguments, +without being sensible of their truth; merely because they were not +objectionable to his feelings at the time. And, in the same manner, +he may have disputed even fair inferences, from admitted premises, if +the state of his feelings happened to be indisposed to the subject. +I am persuaded, nevertheless, that to class him among absolute infidels +were to do injustice to his memory, and that he has suffered uncharitably +in the opinion of “the rigidly righteous,” who, because +he had not attached himself to any particular sect or congregation, +assumed that he was an adversary to religion. To claim for him +any credit, as a pious man, would be absurd; but to suppose he had not +as deep an interest as other men “in his soul’s health” +and welfare, was to impute to him a nature which cannot exist. +Being, altogether, a creature of impulses, he certainly could not be +ever employed in doxologies, or engaged in the logomachy of churchmen; +but he had the sentiment which at a tamer age might have made him more +ecclesiastical. There was as much truth as joke in the expression, +when he wrote,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>I am myself a moderate Presbyterian.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>A mind constituted like that of Lord Byron, was little susceptible +of impressions from the arguments of ordinary men. It was necessary +that Truth, in visiting him, should come arrayed in her solemnities, +and with Awe and Reverence for her precursors. Acknowledged superiority, +yea, celebrated wisdom, were indispensable, to bespeak his sincere attention; +and, without disparagement, it may be fairly said, these were not the +attributes of Dr Kennedy. On the contrary, there was a taint of +cant about him—perhaps he only acted like those who have it—but +still he was not exactly the dignitary to command unaffected deference +from the shrewd and irreverent author of <i>Don Juan</i>. The +result verified what ought to have been the anticipation. The +doctor’s attempt to quicken Byron to a sense of grace failed; +but his Lordship treated him with politeness. The history of the +affair will, however, be more interesting than any reflections which +it is in my humble power to offer.</p> +<p>Some of Dr Kennedy’s acquaintances wished to hear him explain, +in “a logical and demonstrative manner, the evidences and doctrines +of Christianity”; and Lord Byron, hearing of the intended meeting, +desired to be present, and was accordingly invited. He attended; +but was not present at several others which followed; he however intimated +to the doctor, that he would be glad to converse with him, and the invitation +was accepted. “On religion,” says the doctor, “his +Lordship was in general a hearer, proposing his difficulties and objections +with more fairness than could have been expected from one under similar +circumstances; and with so much candour, that they often seemed to be +proposed more for the purpose of procuring information, or satisfactory +answers, than from any other motive.”</p> +<p>At the first meeting, Dr Kennedy explained, becomingly, his views +of the subject, and that he had read every work against Christianity +which fell in his way. It was this consideration which had induced +him with such confidence to enter upon the discussion, knowing, on the +one hand, the strength of Christianity, and, on the other, the weakness +of its assailants. “To show you, therefore,” said +the doctor, “the grounds on which I demand your attention to what +I may say on the nature and evidence of Christianity, I shall mention +the names of some of the authors whose works I have read or consulted.” +When he had mentioned all these names, Lord Byron asked if he had read +Barrow’s and Stillingfleet’s works? The doctor replied, +“I have seen them, but I have not read them.”</p> +<p>After a disquisition, chiefly relative to the history of Christianity, +Dr Kennedy observed, “We must, on all occasions, but more particularly +in fair and logical discussions with sceptics, or Deists, make a distinction +between Christianity, as it is found in the Scriptures, and the errors, +abuses, and imperfections of Christians themselves.” To +this his Lordship remarked, that he always had taken care to make that +distinction, as he knew enough of Christianity to feel that it was both +necessary and just. The doctor remarked that the contrary was +almost universally the case with those who doubted or denied the truth +of Christianity, and proceeded to illustrate the statement. He +then read a summary of the fundamental doctrines of Christianity; but +he had not proceeded far, when he observed signs of impatience in Lord +Byron, who inquired if these sentiments accorded with the doctor’s? +and being answered they did, and with those of all sound Christians, +except in one or two minor things, his Lordship rejoined, that he did +not wish to hear the opinions of others, whose writings he could read +at any time, but only his own. The doctor then read on till coming +to the expression “grace of God.” His Lordship inquired, +“What do you mean by grace?” “The primary and +fundamental meaning of the word,” replied the doctor, somewhat +surprised at his ignorance (I quote his own language), “is favour; +though it varies according to the context to express that disposition +of God which leads Him to grant a favour, the action of doing so, or +the favour itself, or its effects on those who receive it.” +The arrogance of the use of the term ignorance here, requires no animadversion; +but to suppose the greatest master, then in existence, of the English +language, not acquainted with the meaning of the word, when he asked +to be informed of the meaning attached to it by the individual making +use of it, gives us some insight into the true character of the teacher. +The doctor closed the book, as he perceived that Lord Byron, as he says, +had no distinct conception of many of the words used; and his Lordship +subjoined, “What we want is, to be convinced that the Bible is +true; because if we can believe that, it will follow as a matter of +course, that we must believe all the doctrines it contains.”</p> +<p>The reply to this was to the effect, that the observation was partly +just; but though the strongest evidence were produced of the Scriptures +being the revealed will of God, they (his Lordship and others present) +would still remain unbelievers, unless they knew and comprehended the +doctrines contained in the Scriptures. This was not conclusive, +and Lord Byron replied, that they wished him to prove that the Scriptures +were the Word of God, which the doctor, with more than apostolic simplicity, +said that such was his object, but he should like to know what they +deemed the clearest course to follow with that object in view. +After some farther conversation—“No other plan was proposed +by them,” says the doctor; and he adds, “they had violated +their engagement to hear me for twelve hours, for which I had stipulated.” +This may, perhaps, satisfy the reader as to the quality of the doctor’s +understanding; but as the subject, in its bearing, touches Lord Byron’s +character, I shall proceed a little farther into the marrow of the matter.</p> +<p>The inculcation being finished for that evening, Lord Byron said, +that when he was young his mother brought him up strictly; and that +he had access to a great many theological works, and remembered that +he was particularly pleased with Barrow’s writings, and that he +also went regularly to church. He declared that he was not an +infidel, who denied the Scriptures and wished to remain in unbelief; +on the contrary, he was desirous to believe, as he experienced no happiness +in having his religious opinions so unsteady and unfixed. But +he could not, he added, understand the Scriptures. “Those +people who conscientiously believe, I always have respected, and was +always disposed to trust in them more than in others.” A +desultory conversation then ensued, respecting the language and translations +of the Scriptures; in the course of which his Lordship remarked, that +Scott, in his Commentary on the Bible, did not say that it was the devil +who tempted Eve, nor does the Bible say a word about the devil. +It is only said that the serpent spoke, and that it was the subtlest +of all the beasts of the field.—Will it be said that truth and +reason were served by Dr Kennedy’s <a name="citation319"></a><a href="#footnote319">{319}</a> +answer? “As beasts have not the faculty of speech, the just +inference is, that the beast was only an instrument made use of by some +invisible and superior being. The Scriptures accordingly tell +us, that the devil is the father of lies—the lie made by the serpent +to Eve being the first we have on record; they call him also a murderer +from the beginning, as he was the cause of the sentence of death which +was pronounced against Adam and all his posterity; and still farther, +to remove all doubt, and to identify him as the agent who used the serpent +as an instrument, he is called the serpent—the devil.”</p> +<p>Lord Byron inquired what the doctor thought of the theory of Warburton, +that the Jews had no distinct idea of a future state? The doctor +acknowledged that he had often seen, but had never read <i>The Divine +Legation</i>. And yet, he added, had Warburton read his Bible +with more simplicity and attention, he would have enjoyed a more solid +and honourable fame.</p> +<p>His Lordship then said, that one of the greatest difficulties he +had met with was the existence of so much pure and unmixed evil in the +world, and which he could not reconcile to the idea of a benevolent +Creator. The doctor set aside the question as to the origin of +evil; but granted the extensive existence of evil in the universe; to +remedy which, he said, the Gospel was proclaimed; and after some of +the customary commonplaces, he ascribed much of the existing evil to +the slackness of Christians in spreading the Gospel.</p> +<p>“Is there not,” said his Lordship, “some part of +the New Testament where it appears that the disciples were struck with +the state of physical evil, and made inquiries into the cause?”—“There +are two passages,” was the reply. The disciples inquired, +when they saw a man who had been born blind, whether it was owing to +his own or his parents’ sin?—and, after quoting the other +instance, he concludes, that moral and physical evil in individuals +are not always a judgment or punishment, but are intended to answer +certain ends in the government of the world.</p> +<p>“Is there not,” said his Lordship, “a prophecy +in the New Testament which it is alleged has not been fulfilled, although +it was declared that the end of the world would come before the generation +then existing should pass away?”—“The prediction,” +said Dr Kennedy, “related to the destruction of Jerusalem, which +certainly took place within the time assigned; though some of the expressions +descriptive of the signs of that remarkable event are of such a nature +as to appear to apply to Christ’s coming to judge the world at +the end of time.”</p> +<p>His Lordship then asked, if the doctor thought that there had been +fewer wars and persecutions, and less slaughter and misery, in the world +since the introduction of Christianity than before? The doctor +answered this by observing, that since Christianity inculcates peace +and good-will to all men, we must always separate pure religion from +the abuses of which its professors are guilty.</p> +<p>Two other opinions were expressed by his Lordship in the conversation. +The doctor, in speaking of the sovereignty of God, had alluded to the +similitude of the potter and his clay; for his Lordship said, if he +were broken in pieces, he would say to the potter, “Why do you +treat me thus?” The other was an absurdity. It was—if +the whole world were going to hell, he would prefer going with them +than go alone to heaven.</p> +<p>Such was the result of the first council of Cephalonia, if one may +venture the allusion. It is manifest, without saying much for +Lord Byron’s ingenuity, that he was fully a match for the doctor, +and that he was not unacquainted with the subject under discussion.</p> +<p>In the next conversation Lord Byron repeated, “I have no wish +to reject Christianity without investigation; on the contrary, I am +very desirous of believing. But I do not see very much the need +of a Saviour, nor the utility of prayer. Devotion is the affection +of the heart, and this I feel. When I view the wonders of creation, +I bow to the Majesty of Heaven; and when I feel the enjoyments of life, +I feel grateful to God for having bestowed them upon me.” +Upon this some discussion arose, turning chiefly on the passage in the +third chapter of John, “Unless a man is converted, he cannot enter +the kingdom of Heaven”; which naturally led to an explanatory +interlocutor, concerning new birth, regeneration, etc.; and thence diverged +into the topics which had been the subject of the former conversation.</p> +<p>Among other things, Lord Byron inquired, “if the doctor really +thought that the devil appeared before God, as is mentioned in the Book +of Job, or is it only an allegorical or poetical mode of speaking?”—The +reply was, “I believe it in the strict and literal meaning.”</p> +<p>“If it be received in a literal sense,” said his Lordship, +“it gives me a much higher idea of the majesty, power, and wisdom +of God, to believe that the devils themselves are at His nod, and are +subject to His control, with as much ease as the elements of nature +follow the respective laws which His will has assigned them.”</p> +<p>This notion was characteristic, and the poetical feeling in which +it originated, when the doctor attempted to explain the doctrine of +the Manicheans, was still more distinctly developed; for his Lordship +again expressed how much the belief of the real appearance of Satan, +to hear and obey the commands of God, added to his views of the grandeur +and majesty of the Creator.</p> +<p>This second conversation was more desultory than the first; religion +was brought in only incidentally, until his Lordship said, “I +do not reject the doctrines of Christianity; I want only sufficient +proofs of it, to take up the profession in earnest; and I do not believe +myself to be so bad a Christian as many of them who preach against me +with the greatest fury—many of whom I have never seen nor injured.”</p> +<p>“You have only to examine the causes which prevent you” +(from being a true believer), said the doctor, “and you will find +they are futile, and only tend to withhold you from the enjoyment of +real happiness; which at present it is impossible you can find.”</p> +<p>“What, then, you think me in a very bad way?”</p> +<p>“I certainly think you are,” was the reply; “and +this I say, not on my own authority, but on that of the Scriptures.—Your +Lordship must be converted, and must be reformed, before anything can +be said of you, except that you are bad, and in a bad way.”</p> +<p>“But,” replied his Lordship, “I already believe +in predestination, which I know you believe, and in the depravity of +the human heart in general, and of my own in particular; thus you see +there are two points in which we agree. I shall get at the others +by-and-by. You cannot expect me to become a perfect Christian +at once.”</p> +<p>And farther his Lordship subjoined:</p> +<p>“Predestination appears to me just; from my own reflection +and experience, I am influenced in a way which is incomprehensible, +and am led to do things which I never intended; and if there is, as +we all admit, a Supreme Ruler of the universe; and if, as you say, he +has the actions of the devils, as well as of his own angels, completely +at his command, then those influences, or those arrangements of circumstances, +which lead us to do things against our will, or with ill-will, must +be also under his directions. But I have never entered into the +depths of the subject; I have contented myself with believing that there +is a predestination of events, and that predestination depends on the +will of God.”</p> +<p>Dr Kennedy, in speaking of this second conversation, bears testimony +to the respectfulness of his Lordship’s attention. “There +was nothing in his manner which approached to levity, or anything that +indicated a wish to mock at religion; though, on the other hand, an +able dissembler would have done and said all that he did, with such +feelings and intentions.”</p> +<p>Subsequent to the second conversation, Dr Kennedy asked a gentleman +who was intimate with Lord Byron, if he really thought his Lordship +serious in his desire to hear religion explained. “Has he +exhibited any contempt or ridicule at what I have said?” +This gentleman assured him that he had never heard Byron allude to the +subject in any way which could induce him to suspect that he was merely +amusing himself. “But, on the contrary, he always names +you with respect. I do not, however, think you have made much +impression on him: he is just the same fellow as before. He says, +he does not know what religion you are of, for you neither adhere to +creeds nor councils.”</p> +<p>It ought here to be noticed, as showing the general opinion entertained +of his Lordship with respect to these polemical conversations, that +the wits of the garrison made themselves merry with what was going on. +Some of them affected to believe, or did so, that Lord Byron’s +wish to hear Dr Kennedy proceeded from a desire to have an accurate +idea of the opinions and manners of the Methodists, in order that he +might make Don Juan become one for a time, and so be enabled to paint +their conduct with greater accuracy.</p> +<p>The third conversation took place soon after this comment had been +made on Lord Byron’s conduct. The doctor inquired if his +Lordship had read any of the religious books he had sent. “I +have looked,” replied Byron, “into Boston’s <i>Fourfold +State</i>, but I have not had time to read it far: I am afraid it is +too deep for me.”</p> +<p>Although there was no systematic design, on the part of Lord Byron, +to make Dr Kennedy subservient to any scheme of ridicule; yet it is +evident that he was not so serious as the doctor so meritoriously desired.</p> +<p>“I have begun,” said his Lordship, “very fairly; +I have given some of your tracts to Fletcher (his valet), who is a good +sort of man, but still wants, like myself, some reformation; and I hope +he will spread them among the other servants, who require it still more. +Bruno, the physician, and Gamba, are busy, reading some of the Italian +tracts; and I hope it will have a good effect on them. The former +is rather too decided against it at present; and too much engaged with +a spirit of enthusiasm for his own profession, to attend to other subjects; +but we must have patience, and we shall see what has been the result. +I do not fail to read, from time to time, my Bible, though not, perhaps, +so much as I should.”</p> +<p>“Have you begun to pray that you may understand it?”</p> +<p>“Not yet. I have not arrived at that pitch of faith yet; +but it may come by-and-by. You are in too great a hurry.”</p> +<p>His Lordship then went to a side-table, on which a great number of +books were ranged; and, taking hold of an octavo, gave it to the doctor. +It was <i>Illustrations of the Moral Government of God</i>, by E. Smith, +M.D., London. “The author,” said he, “proves +that the punishment of hell is not eternal; it will have a termination.”</p> +<p>“The author,” replied the doctor, “is, I suppose, +one of the Socinians; who, in a short time, will try to get rid of every +doctrine in the Bible. How did your Lordship get hold of this +book?”</p> +<p>“They sent it out to me from England, to make a convert of +me, I suppose. The arguments are strong, drawn from the Bible +itself; and by showing that a time will come when every intelligent +creature shall be supremely happy, and eternally so, it expunges that +shocking doctrine, that sin and misery will for ever exist under the +government of God, Whose highest attribute is love and goodness. +To my present apprehension, it would be a most desirable thing, could +it be proved that, alternately, all created beings were to be happy. +This would appear to be most consistent with the nature of God.—I +cannot yield to your doctrine of the eternal duration of punishment.—This +author’s opinion is more humane; and, I think, he supports it +very strongly from Scripture.”</p> +<p>The fourth conversation was still more desultory, being carried on +at table amid company; in the course of it Lord Byron, however, declared +“that he was so much of a believer as to be of opinion that there +is no contradiction in the Scriptures which cannot be reconciled by +an attentive consideration and comparison of passages.”</p> +<p>It is needless to remark that Lord Byron, in the course of these +conversations, was incapable of preserving a consistent seriousness. +The volatility of his humour was constantly leading him into playfulness, +and he never lost an opportunity of making a pun or saying a quaint +thing. “Do you know,” said he to the doctor, “I +am nearly reconciled to St Paul; for he says there is no difference +between the Jews and the Greeks, and I am exactly of the same opinion, +for the character of both is equally vile.”</p> +<p>Upon the whole it must be conceded, that whatever was the degree +of Lord Byron’s dubiety as to points of faith and doctrine, he +could not be accused of gross ignorance, nor described as animated by +any hostile feeling against religion.</p> +<p>In this sketch of these conversations, I have restricted myself chiefly +to those points which related to his Lordship’s own sentiments +and belief. It would have been inconsistent with the concise limits +of this work to have detailed the controversies. A fair summary +of what Byron did not believe, what he was disposed to believe but had +not satisfied himself with the evidence, and what he did believe, seemed +to be the task I ought to undertake. The result confirmed the +statement of his Lordship’s religious condition, given in the +preliminary remarks which, I ought to mention, were written before I +looked into Dr Kennedy’s book; and the statement is not different +from the estimate which the conversations warrant. It is true +that Lord Byron’s part in the conversations is not very characteristic; +but the integrity of Dr Kennedy is a sufficient assurance that they +are substantially correct.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XLIV</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Voyage to Cephalonia</i>—<i>Letter</i>—<i>Count Gamba’s +Address</i>—<i>Grateful Feelings of the Turks</i>—<i>Endeavours +of Lord Byron to mitigate the Horrors of the War</i></p> +<p>Lord Byron, after leaving Argostoli, on the 29th December, 1823, +the port of Cephalonia, sailed for Zante, where he took on board a quantity +of specie. Although the distance from Zante to Missolonghi is +but a few hours’ sail, the voyage was yet not without adventures. +Missolonghi, as I have already mentioned, was then blockaded by the +Turks, and some address was necessary, on that account, to effect an +entrance, independent of the difficulties, at all times, of navigating +the canals which intersect the shallows. In the following letter +to Colonel Stanhope, his Lordship gives an account of what took place. +It is very characteristic; I shall therefore quote it.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p><i>“Scrofer</i>, <i>or some such name</i>, <i>on board a<br />Cephaloniate +Mistice</i>, <i>Dec</i>. 31, 1823.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“MY DEAR STANHOPE,—We are just arrived here—that +is, part of my people and I, with some things, etc., and which it may +be as well not to specify in a letter (which has a risk of being intercepted, +perhaps); but Gamba and my horses, negro, steward, and the press, and +all the committee things, also some eight thousand dollars of mine (but +never mind, we have more left—do you understand?) are taken by +the Turkish frigates; and my party and myself in another boat, have +had a narrow escape, last night (being close under their stern, and +hailed, but we would not answer, and bore away) as well as this morning. +Here we are, with sun and charming weather, within a pretty little port +enough; but whether our Turkish friends may not send in their boats, +and take us out (for we have no arms, except two carbines and some pistols, +and, I suspect, not more than four fighting people on board), is another +question; especially if we remain long here, since we are blocked out +of Missolonghi by the direct entrance. You had better send my +friend George Drake, and a body of Suliotes, to escort us by land or +by the canals, with all convenient speed. Gamba and our <i>Bombard</i> +are taken into Patras, I suppose, and we must take a turn at the Turks +to get them out. But where the devil is the fleet gone? the Greek, +I mean—leaving us to get in without the least intimation to take +heed that the Moslems were out again. Make my respects to Mavrocordato, +and say that I am here at his disposal. I am uneasy at being here. +We are very well.—Yours, etc.</p> +<p>“N. B.</p> +<p>“P.S. The <i>Bombard</i> was twelve miles out when taken; +at least, so it appeared to us (if taken she actually be, for it is +not certain), and we had to escape from another vessel that stood right +in between us and the port.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Colonel Stanhope on receiving this despatch, which was carried to +him by two of Lord Byron’s servants, sent two armed boats, and +a company of Suliotes, to escort his Lordship to Missolonghi, where +he arrived on the 5th of January, and was received with military honours, +and the most enthusiastic demonstrations of popular joy. No mark +of respect which the Greeks could think of was omitted. The ships +fired a salute as he passed. Prince Mavrocordato, and all the +authorities, with the troops and the population, met him on his landing, +and accompanied him to the house which had been prepared for him, amid +the shouts of the multitude and the discharge of cannon.</p> +<p>In the meantime, Count Gamba and his companions being taken before +Yusuff Pasha at Patras, expected to share the fate of certain unfortunate +prisoners whom that stern chief had sacrificed the preceding year at +Prevesa; and their fears would probably have been realised but for the +intrepid presence of mind displayed by the Count, who, assuming a haughty +style, accused the Ottoman captain of the frigate of a breach of neutrality, +in detaining a vessel under English colours, and concluded by telling +the Pasha that he might expect the vengeance of the British Government +in thus interrupting a nobleman who was merely on his travels, and bound +to Calamata. Perhaps, however, another circumstance had quite +as much influence with the Pasha as this bravery. In the master +of the vessel he recognised a person who had saved his life in the Black +Sea fifteen years before, and in consequence not only consented to the +vessel’s release, but treated the whole of the passengers with +the utmost attention, and even urged them to take a day’s shooting +in the neighbourhood.</p> +<p>The first measure which his Lordship attempted after his arrival, +was to mitigate the ferocity with which the war was carried on; one +of the objects, as he explained to my friend who visited him at Genoa, +which induced him to embark in the cause. And it happened that +the very day he reached the town was signalised by his rescuing a Turk +who had fallen into the hands of some Greek sailors. This man +was clothed by his Lordship’s orders, and sent over to Patras; +and soon after Count Gamba’s release, hearing that four other +Turks were prisoners in Missolonghi, he requested that they might be +placed in his hands, which was immediately granted. These he also +sent to Patras, with a letter addressed to Yusuff, expressing his hope +that the prisoners thence-forward taken on both sides would be treated +with humanity. This act was followed by another equally praiseworthy. +A Greek cruiser having captured a Turkish boat, in which there was a +number of passengers, chiefly women and children, they were also placed +at the disposal of his Lordship, at his particular request. Captain +Parry has given a description of the scene between Lord Byron, and that +multitude of mothers and children, too interesting to be omitted here. +“I was summoned to attend him, and receive his orders that everything +should be done which might contribute to their comfort. He was +seated on a cushion at the upper end of the room, the women and children +were standing before him with their eyes fixed steadily on him; and +on his right hand was his interpreter, who was extracting from the women +a narrative of their sufferings. One of them, apparently about +thirty years of age, possessing great vivacity, and whose manners and +dress, though she was then dirty and disfigured, indicated that she +was superior in rank and condition to her companions, was spokeswoman +for the whole. I admired the good order the others preserved, +never interfering with the explanation, or interrupting the single speaker. +I also admired the rapid manner in which the interpreter explained everything +they said, so as to make it almost appear that there was but one speaker. +After a short time it was evident that what Lord Byron was hearing affected +his feelings; his countenance changed, his colour went and came, and +I thought he was ready to weep. But he had, on all occasions, +a ready and peculiar knack in turning conversation from any disagreeable +or unpleasant subject; and he had recourse to this expedient. +He rose up suddenly, and, turning round on his heel as was his wont, +he said something to his interpreter, who immediately repeated it to +the women. All eyes were immediately fixed on me; and one of the +party, a young and beautiful woman, spoke very warmly. Lord Byron +seemed satisfied, and said they might retire. The women all slipped +off their shoes in an instant, and, going up to his Lordship, each in +succession, accompanied by their children, kissed his hand fervently, +invoked, in the Turkish manner, a blessing, both on his hand and heart, +and then quitted the room. This was too much for Lord Byron, and +he turned his face away to conceal his emotion”</p> +<p>A vessel was then hired, and the whole of them, to the number of +twenty-four, were sent to Prevesa, provided with every requisite for +their comfort during the passage. These instances of humanity +excited a sympathy among the Turks. The Governor of Prevesa thanked +his Lordship, and assured him that he would take care that equal attention +should be in future paid to the Greeks, who might fall into his hands.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XLV</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Proceedings at Missolonghi</i>—<i>Byron’s Suliote +Brigade</i>—<i>Their Insubordination</i>—<i>Difference with +Colonel Stanhope</i>—<i>Imbecility of the Plans for the Independence +of Greece</i></p> +<p>The arrival of Lord Byron at Missolonghi was not only hailed as a +new era in the history of Greece, but as the beginning of a new cycle +in his own extraordinary life. His natural indolence disappeared; +the Sardanapalian sloth was thrown off, and he took a station in the +van of her efforts that bespoke heroic achievement.</p> +<p>After paying the fleet, which indeed had only come out in the expectation +of receiving the arrears from the loan he had promised to Mavrocordato, +he resolved to form a brigade of Suliotes. Five hundred of the +remains of Marco Botzaris’s gallant followers were accordingly +taken into his pay. “He burns with military ardour and chivalry,” +says Colonel Stanhope, “and will proceed with the expedition to +Lepanto.” But the expedition was delayed by causes which +ought to have been foreseen.</p> +<p>The Suliotes, conceiving that in his Lordship they had found a patron +whose wealth and generosity were equally boundless, refused to quit +Missolonghi till their arrears were paid. Savage in the field, +and untamable in the city, they became insubordinate and mercenary; +nor was their conduct without excuse. They had long defended the +town with untired bravery; their families had been driven into it in +the most destitute condition; and all the hopes that had led them to +take up arms were still distant and prospective. Besides, Mavrocordato, +unlike the other Grecian captains, having no troops of his own, affected +to regard these mercenaries as allies, and was indulgent to their excesses. +The town was overawed by their turbulence, conflicts took place in the +street; riot and controversy everywhere prevailed, and blood was shed.</p> +<p>Lord Byron’s undisciplined spirit could ill brook delay; he +partook of the general vehemence, and lost the power of discerning the +comparative importance both of measures and things. He was out +of his element; confusion thickened around him; his irritability grew +into passion; and there was the rush and haste, the oblivion and alarm +of fatality in all he undertook and suggested.</p> +<p>One day, a party of German adventurers reached the fortress so demoralized +by hardships, that few of them were fit for service. It was intended +to form a corps of artillery, and these men were destined for that branch +of the service; but their condition was such, that Stanhope doubted +the practicability of carrying the measure into effect at that time. +He had promised to contribute a hundred pounds to their equipment. +Byron attributed the Colonel’s objections to reluctance to pay +the money; and threatened him if it were refused, with a punishment, +new in Grecian war——to libel him in the <i>Greek Chronicle</i>! +a newspaper which Stanhope had recently established.</p> +<p>It is, however, not easy to give a correct view of the state of affairs +at that epoch in Missolonghi. All parties seem to have been deplorably +incompetent to understand the circumstances in which they were placed;—the +condition of the Greeks, and that their exigencies required only physical +and military means. They talked of newspapers and types, and libels, +as if the moral instruments of civil exhortation were adequate to wrench +the independence of Greece from the bloody grasp of the Ottoman. +No wonder that Byron, accustomed to the management only of his own fancies, +was fluttered amid the conflicts of such riot and controversy.</p> +<p>His situation at this period was indeed calculated to inspire pity. +Had he survived, it might, instead of awakening the derision of history, +have supplied to himself materials for another canto of <i>Don Juan</i>. +I shall select one instance of his afflictions.</p> +<p>The captain of a British gun-brig came to Missolonghi to demand an +equivalent for an Ionian boat, which had been taken in the act of going +out of the Gulf of Lepanto, with provisions and arms. The Greek +fleet at that time blockading the port consisted of five brigs, and +the Turks had fourteen vessels of war in the gulf. The captain +maintained that the British Government recognised no blockade which +was not efficient, and that the efficiency depended on the numerical +superiority of cannon. On this principle he demanded restitution +of the property. Mavrocordato offered to submit the case to the +decision of the British Government, but the captain would only give +him four hours to consider. The indemnification was granted.</p> +<p>Lord Byron conducted the business in behalf of the captain. +In the evening, conversing with Stanhope on the subject, the colonel +said the affair was conducted in a bullying manner. His Lordship +started into a passion and contended that law, justice, and equity had +nothing to do with politics. “That may be,” replied +Stanhope, “but I will never lend myself to injustice.”</p> +<p>His Lordship then began to attack Jeremy Bentham. The colonel +complained of such illiberality, as to make personal attacks on that +gentleman before a friend who held him in high estimation.</p> +<p>“I only attack his public principles,” replied Byron, +“which are mere theories, but dangerous,—injurious to Spain, +and calculated to do great mischief in Greece.”</p> +<p>Stanhope vindicated Bentham, and said, “He possesses a truly +British heart; but your Lordship, after professing liberal principles +from boyhood, have, when called upon to act, proved yourself a Turk.”</p> +<p>“What proofs have you of this?</p> +<p>“Your conduct in endeavouring to crush the press by declaiming +against it to Mavrocordato, and your general abuse of liberal principles.”</p> +<p>“If I had held up my finger,” retorted his Lordship, +“I could have crushed the press.”</p> +<p>“With all this power,” said Stanhope, “which by +the way you never possessed, you went to the prince, and poisoned his +ear.”</p> +<p>Lord Byron then disclaimed against the liberals. “What +liberals?” cried Stanhope. “Did you borrow your notions +of freemen from the Italians?”</p> +<p>“No: from the Hunts, Cartwrights, and such.”</p> +<p>“And yet your Lordship presented Cartwright’s Reform +Bill, and aided Hunt by praising his poetry and giving him the sale +of your works.”</p> +<p>“You are worse than Wilson,” exclaimed Byron, “and +should quit the army.”</p> +<p>“I am a mere soldier,” replied Stanhope, “but never +will I abandon my principles. Our principles are diametrically +opposite, so let us avoid the subject. If Lord Byron acts up to +his professions, he will be the greatest, if not, the meanest of mankind.”</p> +<p>“My character,” said his Lordship, “I hope, does +not depend on your assertions.”</p> +<p>“No: your genius has immortalized you. The worst will +not deprive you of fame.”</p> +<p>Lord Byron then rejoined, “Well; you shall see: judge of me +by my acts.” And, bidding the colonel good night, who took +up the light to conduct him to the passage, he added, “What! hold +up a light to a Turk!”</p> +<p>Such were the Franklins, the Washingtons, and the Hamiltons who undertook +the regeneration of Greece.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XLVI</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>Lord Byron appointed to the command of three thousand Men to besiege +Lepanto</i>—<i>The Siege abandoned for a Blockade</i>—<i>Advanced +Guard ordered to proceed</i>—<i>Lord Byron’s first Illness</i>—<i>A +Riot</i>—<i>He is urged to leave Greece</i>—<i>The Expedition +against Lepanto abandoned</i>—<i>Byron dejected</i>—<i>A +wild diplomatic Scheme</i></p> +<p>Three days after the conversation related in the preceding chapter, +Byron was officially placed in the command of about three thousand men, +destined for the attack on Lepanto; but the Suliotes remained refractory, +and refused to quit their quarters; his Lordship, however, employed +an argument which proved effectual. He told them that if they +did not obey his commands, he would discharge them from his service.</p> +<p>But the impediments were not to be surmounted; in less than a week +it was formally reported to Byron that Missolonghi could not furnish +the means of undertaking the siege of Lepanto, upon which his Lordship +proposed that Lepanto should be only blockaded by two thousand men. +Before any actual step was, however, taken, two spies came in with a +report that the Albanians in garrison at Lepanto had seized the citadel, +and were determined to surrender it to his Lordship. Still the +expedition lingered; at last, on the 14th of February, six weeks after +Byron’s arrival at Missolonghi, it was determined that an advanced +guard of three hundred soldiers, under the command of Count Gamba, should +march for Lepanto, and that Lord Byron, with the main body, should follow. +The Suliotes were, however, still exorbitant, calling for fresh contributions +for themselves and their families. His troubles were increasing, +and every new rush of the angry tide rose nearer and nearer his heart; +still his fortitude enabled him to preserve an outward show of equanimity. +But, on the very day after the determination had been adopted, to send +forward the advanced guard, his constitution gave way.</p> +<p>He was sitting in Colonel Stanhope’s room, talking jestingly, +according to his wonted manner, with Captain Parry, when his eyes and +forehead occasionally discovered that he was agitated by strong feelings. +On a sudden he complained of a weakness in one of his legs; he rose, +but finding himself unable to walk, called for assistance; he then fell +into a violent nervous convulsion, and was placed upon a bed: while +the fit lasted, his face was hideously distorted; but in the course +of a few minutes the convulsion ceased, and he began to recover his +senses: his speech returned, and he soon rose, apparently well. +During the struggle his strength was preternaturally augmented, and +when it was over, he behaved with his usual firmness. “I +conceive,” says Colonel Stanhope, “that this fit was occasioned +by over-excitement. The mind of Byron is like a volcano; it is +full of fire, wrath, and combustibles, and when this matter comes to +be strongly agitated, the explosion is dreadful. With respect +to the causes which produced the excess of feeling, they are beyond +my reach, except one great cause, the provoking conduct of the Suliotes.”</p> +<p>A few days after this distressing incident, a new occurrence arose, +which materially disturbed the tranquillity of Byron. A Suliote, +accompanied by the son, a little boy, of Marco Botzaris, with another +man, walked into the Seraglio, a kind of citadel, which had been used +as a barrack for the Suliotes, and out of which they had been ejected +with difficulty, when it was required for the reception of stores and +the establishment of a laboratory. The sentinel ordered them back, +but the Suliote advanced. The sergeant of the guard, a German, +pushed him back. The Suliote struck the sergeant; they closed +and struggled. The Suliote drew his pistol; the German wrenched +it from him, and emptied the pan. At this moment a Swedish adventurer, +Captain Sass, seeing the quarrel, ordered the Suliote to be taken to +the guard-room. The Suliote would have departed, but the German +still held him. The Swede drew his sabre; the Suliote his other +pistol. The Swede struck him with the flat of his sword; the Suliote +unsheathed his ataghan, and nearly cut off the left arm of his antagonist, +and then shot him through the head. The other Suliotes would not +deliver up their comrade, for he was celebrated among them for distinguished +bravery. The workmen in the laboratory refused to work: they required +to be sent home to England, declaring, they had come out to labour peaceably, +and not to be exposed to assassination. These untoward occurrences +deeply vexed Byron, and there was no mind of sufficient energy with +him to control the increasing disorders. But, though convinced, +as indeed he had been persuaded from the beginning in his own mind, +that he could not render any assistance to the cause beyond mitigating +the ferocious spirit in which the war was conducted, his pride and honour +would not allow him to quit Greece.</p> +<p>In a letter written soon after his first attack, he says, “I +am a good deal better, though of course weakly. The leeches took +too much blood from my temples the day after, and there was some difficulty +in stopping it; but I have been up daily, and out in boats or on horseback. +To-day I have taken a warm bath, and live as temperately as can well +be, without any liquid but water, and without any animal food”; +then adverting to the turbulences of the Suliotes, he adds, “but +I still hope better things, and will stand by the cause as long as my +health and circumstances will permit me to be supposed useful.” +Subsequently, when pressed to leave the marshy and deleterious air of +Missolonghi, he replied, still more forcibly, “I cannot quit Greece +while there is a chance of my being of (even supposed) utility. +There is a stake worth millions such as I am, and while I can stand +at all I must stand by the cause. While I say this, I am aware +of the difficulties, and dissensions, and defects of the Greeks themselves; +but allowance must be made for them by all reasonable people.”</p> +<p>After this attack of epilepsy Lord Byron because disinclined to pursue +his scheme against Lepanto. Indeed, it may be said that in his +circumstances it was impracticable; for although the Suliotes repented +of their insubordination, they yet had an objection to the service, +and said “they would not fight against stone walls.” +All thought of the expedition was in consequence abandoned, and the +destinies of poor Byron were hastening to their consummation. +He began to complain!</p> +<p>In speaking to Parry one day of the Greek Committee in London, he +said, “I have been grossly ill-treated by the Committee. +In Italy Mr Blaquiere, their agent, informed me that every requisite +supply would be forwarded with all despatch. I was disposed to +come to Greece, but I hastened my departure in consequence of earnest +solicitations. No time was to be lost, I was told, and Mr Blaquiere, +instead of waiting on me at his return from Greece, left a paltry note, +which gave me no information whatever. If ever I meet with him, +I shall not fail to mention my surprise at his conduct; but it has been +all of a piece. I wish the acting Committee had had some of the +trouble which has fallen on me since my arrival here: they would have +been more prompt in their proceedings, and would have known better what +the country stood in need of. They would not have delayed the +supplies a day nor have sent out German officers, poor fellows, to starve +at Missolonghi, but for my assistance. I am a plain man, and cannot +comprehend the use of printing-presses to a people who do not read. +Here the Committee have sent supplies of maps. I suppose that +I may teach the young mountaineers geography. Here are bugle-horns +without bugle-men, and it is a chance if we can find anybody in Greece +to blow them. Books are sent to people who want guns; they ask +for swords, and the Committee give them the lever of a printing-press.</p> +<p>“My future intentions,” continued his Lordship, “as +to Greece, may be explained in a few words. I will remain here +until she is secure against the Turks, or till she has fallen under +their power. All my income shall be spent in her service; but, +unless driven by some great necessity, I will not touch a farthing of +the sum intended for my sister’s children. Whatever I can +accomplish with my income, and my personal exertions, shall be cheerfully +done. When Greece is secure against external enemies, I will leave +the Greeks to settle their government as they like. One service +more, and an eminent service it will be, I think I may perform for them. +You, Parry, shall have a schooner built for me, or I will buy a vessel; +the Greeks shall invest me with the character of their ambassador, or +agent: I will go to the United States, and procure that free and enlightened +government to set the example of recognising the federation of Greece +as an independent state. This done, England must follow the example, +and then the fate of Greece will be permanently fixed, and she will +enter into all her rights as a member of the great commonwealth of Christian +Europe.”</p> +<p>This intention will, to all who have ever looked at the effects of +fortune on individuals, sufficiently show that Byron’s part in +the world was nearly done. Had he lived, and recovered health, +it might have proved that he was then only in another lunation: his +first was when he passed from poesy to heroism. But as it was, +it has only served to show that his mind had suffered by the decadency +of his circumstances, and how much the idea of self-exaltation weakly +entered into all his plans. The business was secondary to the +style in which it should be performed. Building a vessel! why +think of the conveyance at all? as if the means of going to America +were so scarce that there might be difficulty in finding them. +But his mind was passing from him. The intention was unsound—a +fantasy—a dream of bravery in old age—begotten of the erroneous +supposition that the cabinets of Christendom would remain unconcerned +spectators of the triumph of the Greeks, or even of any very long procrastination +of their struggle.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XLVII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>The last Illness and Death of Lord Byron</i>—<i>His last +Poem</i></p> +<p>Although in common parlance it may be said, that after the attack +of epilepsy Lord Byron’s general health did not appear to have +been essentially impaired, the appearance was fallacious; his constitution +had received a vital shock, and the exciting causes, vexation and confusion, +continued to exasperate his irritation.</p> +<p>On the 1st of March he complained of frequent vertigoes, which made +him feel as though he were intoxicated; but no effectual means were +taken to remove these portentous symptoms; and he regularly enjoyed +his daily exercise, sometimes in boats, but oftener on horseback. +His physician thought him convalescent; his mind, however, was in constant +excitement; it rested not even during sleep.</p> +<p>On the 9th of April, while sailing, he was overtaken by the rain, +and got very wet: on his return home, he changed the whole of his dress; +but he had been too long in his wet clothes, and the stamina of his +constitution being shaken could not withstand the effects. In +little more than two hours he was seized with rigors, fever, and rheumatic +pains. During the night, however, he slept in his accustomed manner, +but in the morning he complained of pains and headache; still this did +not prevent him from going out on horseback in the afternoon—it +was for the last time.</p> +<p>On returning home, he observed to one of the servants that the saddle +was not perfectly dry, from having been so wet the day before, and that +he thought it had made him worse. He soon after became affected +with almost constant shivering; sudorific medicines were administered, +and blood-letting proposed; but though he took the drugs, he objected +to the bleeding. Another physician was in consequence called in +to see if the rheumatic fever could be appeased without the loss of +blood. This doctor approved of the medicines prescribed, and was +not opposed to the opinion that bleeding was necessary, but said it +might be deferred till the next day.</p> +<p>On the 11th he seemed rather better, but the medicines had produced +no effect.</p> +<p>On the 12th he was confined to bed with fever, and his illness appeared +to be increasing; he was very low, and complained of not having had +any sleep during the night; but the medical gentlemen saw no cause for +alarm. Dr Bruno, his own physician, again proposed bleeding; the +stranger still, however, thought it might be deferred, and Byron himself +was opposed to it. “You will die,” said Dr Bruno, +“if you do not allow yourself to be bled.” “You +wish to get the reputation of curing my disease,” replied his +Lordship, “that is why you tell me it is so serious; but I will +not permit you to bleed me.”</p> +<p>On the 13th he sat up for some time, after a sleepless night, and +still complained of pain in his bones and head.</p> +<p>On the 14th he also left his bed. The fever was less, but the +debility greater, and the pain in his head was undiminished. His +valet became alarmed, and, doubtful of the skill of the doctors around +him, entreated permission to send to Zante for an English physician +of greater reputation. His Lordship desired him to consult the +others, which he did, and they told him there was no occasion to call +in any person, as they hoped all would be well in a few days.</p> +<p>His Lordship now began to doubt if his disease was understood, and +remarked repeatedly in the course of this day, that he was sure the +doctors did not understand it. “Then, my Lord,” said +Fletcher, his valet, “have other advice.” “They +tell me,” rejoined his Lordship, “that it is only a common +cold, which you know I have had a thousand times.”</p> +<p>“I am sure you never had one of so serious a nature.”</p> +<p>“I think I never had.”</p> +<p>Fletcher then went again to the physicians, and repeated his solicitations +that the doctor in Zante might be sent for; but was again assured that +his master would be better in two or three days.</p> +<p>At length, the doctor who had too easily consented to the postponement +of the bleeding, seeing the prognostications of Dr Bruno more and more +confirmed, urged the necessity of bleeding, and of no longer delay. +This convinced Byron, who was himself greatly averse to the operation, +that they did not understand his case.</p> +<p>On the 15th his Lordship felt the pains abated, insomuch that he +was able to transact some business.</p> +<p>On the 16th he wrote a letter, but towards the evening he became +worse, and a pound of blood was taken from him. Still the disease +was making progress, but Dr Bruno did not yet seem much alarmed; on +the contrary, he thought were more blood removed his recovery was certain. +Fletcher immediately told his master, urging him to comply with the +doctor’s wishes. “I fear,” said his Lordship, +“they know nothing about my disorder, but”—and he +stretched out his arm—“here, take my arm and do whatever +you like.”</p> +<p>On the 17th his countenance was changed; during the night he had +become weaker, and a slight degree of delirium, in which he raved of +fighting, had come on. In the course of the day he was bled twice; +in the morning, and at two in the afternoon. The bleeding, on +both occasions, was followed by fainting fits. On this day he +said to Fletcher, “I cannot sleep, and you well know I have not +been able to sleep for more than a week. I know that a man can +only be a certain time without sleep, and then he must go mad, without +anyone being able to save him; and I would ten times sooner shoot myself +than be mad, for I am not afraid of dying—I am more fit to die +than people think.”</p> +<p>On the 18th his Lordship first began to dread that his fate was inevitable. +“I fear,” said he to Fletcher, “you and Tita will +be ill by sitting up constantly, night and day”; and he appeared +much dissatisfied with his medical treatment. Fletcher again entreated +permission to send for Dr Thomas, at Zante: “Do so, but be quick,” +said his Lordship, “I am sorry I did not let you do so before, +as I am sure they have mistaken my disease; write yourself, for I know +they would not like to see other doctors here.”</p> +<p>Not a moment was lost in executing the order, and on Fletcher informing +the doctors what he had done, they said it was right, as they now began +to be afraid themselves. “Have you sent?” said his +Lordship, when Fletcher returned to him.—“I have, my Lord.”</p> +<p>“You have done well, for I should like to know what is the +matter with me.”</p> +<p>From that time his Lordship grew every hour weaker and weaker; and +he had occasional flights of delirium. In the intervals he was, +however, quite self-possessed, and said to Fletcher, “I now begin +to think I am seriously ill; and in case I should be taken off suddenly, +I wish to give you several directions, which I hope you will be particular +in seeing executed.” Fletcher in reply expressed his hope +that he would live many years, and execute them himself. “No, +it is now nearly over; I must tell you all without losing a moment.”</p> +<p>“Shall I go, my Lord, and fetch pen, ink, and paper.</p> +<p>“Oh, my God! no, you will lose too much time, and I have it +not to spare, for my time is now short. Now pay attention—you +will be provided for.”</p> +<p>“I beseech you, my Lord, to proceed with things of more consequence.”</p> +<p>His Lordship then added,</p> +<p>“Oh, my poor dear child!—my dear Ada!—My God! could +I have but seen her—give her my blessing—and my dear sister +Augusta, and her children—and you will go to Lady Byron and say—tell +her everything—you are friends with her.”</p> +<p>He appeared to be greatly affected at this moment. His voice +failed, and only words could be caught at intervals; but he kept muttering +something very seriously for some time, and after raising his voice, +said,</p> +<p>“Fletcher, now if you do not execute every order which I have +given you, I will torment you hereafter, if possible.”</p> +<p>This little speech is the last characteristic expression which escaped +from the dying man. He knew Fletcher’s superstitious tendency, +and it cannot be questioned that the threat was the last feeble flash +of his prankfulness. The faithful valet replied in consternation +that he had not understood one word of what his Lordship had been saying.</p> +<p>“Oh! my God!” was the reply, “then all is lost, +for it is now too late! Can it be possible you have not understood +me!”</p> +<p>“No, my Lord; but I pray you to try and inform me once more.”</p> +<p>“How can I? it is now too late, and all is over.”</p> +<p>“Not our will, but God’s be done,” said Fletcher, +and his Lordship made another effort, saying,</p> +<p>“Yes, not mine be done—but I will try”—and +he made several attempts to speak, but could only repeat two or three +words at a time; such as,</p> +<p>“My wife! my child—my sister—you know all—you +must say all—you know my wishes”——The rest was +unintelligible.</p> +<p>A consultation with three other doctors, in addition to the two physicians +in regular attendance, was now held; and they appeared to think the +disease was changing from inflammatory diathesis to languid, and ordered +stimulants to be administered. Dr Bruno opposed this with the +greatest warmth; and pointed out that the symptoms were those, not of +an alteration in the disease, but of a fever flying to the brain, which +was violently attacked by it; and, that the stimulants they proposed +would kill more speedily than the disease itself. While, on the +other hand, by copious bleeding, and the medicines that had been taken +before, he might still be saved. The other physicians, however, +were of a different opinion; and then Dr Bruno declared he would risk +no farther responsibility. Peruvian bark and wine were then administered. +After taking these stimulants, his Lordship expressed a wish to sleep. +His last words were, “I must sleep now”; and he composed +himself accordingly, but never awoke again.</p> +<p>For four-and-twenty hours he continued in a state of lethargy, with +the rattles occasionally in his throat. At six o’clock in +the morning of the 19th, Fletcher, who was watching by his bed-side, +saw him open his eyes and then shut them, apparently without pain or +moving hand or foot. “My God!” exclaimed the faithful +valet, “I fear his Lordship is gone.” The doctors +felt his pulse—it was so.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>After life’s fitful fever he sleeps well.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>But the fittest dirge is his own last lay, written on the day he +completed his thirty-sixth year, soon after his arrival at Missolonghi, +when his hopes of obtaining distinction in the Greek cause were, perhaps, +brightest; and yet it breathes of dejection almost to boding.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>’Tis time this heart should be unmoved<br /> Since +others it has ceased to move,<br />Yet though I cannot be beloved<br /> Still +let me love.</p> +<p>My days are in the yellow leaf,<br /> The flowers +and fruits of love are gone,<br />The worm, the canker, and the grief<br /> Are +mine alone.</p> +<p>The fire that in my bosom preys<br /> Is like to +some volcanic isle,<br />No torch is kindled at its blaze—<br /> A +funeral pile.</p> +<p>The hope, the fears, the jealous care,<br /> Th’ +exalted portion of the pain,<br />And power of love I cannot share,<br /> But +wear the chain.</p> +<p>But ’tis not here—it is not here—<br /> Such +thoughts should shake my soul; nor now<br />Where glory seals the hero’s +bier,<br /> Or binds his brow.</p> +<p>The sword, the banner, and the field,<br /> Glory +and Greece around us see;<br />The Spartan borne upon his shield<br /> Was +not more free.</p> +<p>Awake! not Greece—she is awake—<br /> Awake +my spirit! think through whom<br />My life-blood tastes its parent lake,<br /> And +then strike home!</p> +<p>I tread reviving passions down,<br /> Unworthy manhood! +Unto thee<br />Indifferent should the smile or frown<br /> Of +beauty be.</p> +<p>If thou regrett’st thy youth, why live?<br /> The +land of honourable death<br />Is here, up to the field and give<br /> Away +thy breath.</p> +<p>Seek out—less often sought than found—<br /> A +soldier’s grave—for thee the best<br />Then look around, +and choose thy ground,<br /> And +take thy rest.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XLVIII</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>The funeral Preparations and final Obsequies</i></p> +<p>The death of Lord Byron was felt by all Greece as a national misfortune. +From the moment it was known that fears were entertained for his life, +the progress of the disease was watched with the deepest anxiety and +sorrow. On Easter Sunday, the day on which he expired, thousands +of the inhabitants of Missolonghi had assembled on the spacious plain +on the outside of the city, according to an ancient custom, to exchange +the salutations of the morning; but on this occasion it was remarked, +that instead of the wonted congratulations, “Christ is risen,” +they inquired first, “How is Lord Byron?”</p> +<p>On the event being made known, the Provisional Government assembled, +and a proclamation, of which the following is a translation, was issued</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>“<i>Provisional Government of Western Greece.</i></p> +<p>“The day of festivity and rejoicing is turned into one of sorrow +and morning.</p> +<p>“The Lord Noel Byron departed this life at eleven <a name="citation354"></a><a href="#footnote354">{354}</a> +o’clock last night, after an illness of ten days. His death +was caused by an inflammatory fever. Such was the effect of his +Lordship’s illness on the public mind, that all classes had forgotten +their usual recreations of Easter, even before the afflicting event +was apprehended.</p> +<p>“The loss of this illustrious individual is undoubtedly to +be deplored by all Greece; but it must be more especially a subject +of lamentation at Missolonghi, where his generosity has been so conspicuously +displayed, and of which he had become a citizen, with the ulterior determination +of participating in all the dangers of the war.</p> +<p>“Everybody is acquainted with the beneficent acts of his Lordship, +and none can cease to hail his name as that of a real benefactor.</p> +<p>“Until, therefore, the final determination of the national +Government be known, and by virtue of the powers with which it has been +pleased to invest me, I hereby decree:</p> +<p>“1st. To-morrow morning, at daylight, thirty-seven minute-guns +shall be fired from the grand battery, being the number which corresponds +with the age of the illustrious deceased.</p> +<p>“2nd. All the public offices, even to the tribunals, +are to remain closed for three successive days.</p> +<p>“3rd. All the shops, except those in which provisions +or medicines are sold, will also be shut; and it is strictly enjoined +that every species of public amusement and other demonstrations of festivity +at Easter may be suspended.</p> +<p>“4th. A general mourning will be observed for twenty-one +days.</p> +<p>“5th. Prayers and a funeral service are to be offered +up in all the churches.</p> +<p>“A. MAVROCORDATOS.<br />“GEORGIS PRAIDIS, <i>Secretary.</i></p> +<p>“Given at Missolonghi, this 19th of April, 1824.”</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>The funeral oration was written and delivered on the occasion, by +Spiridion Tricoupi, and ordered by the government to be published. +No token of respect that reverence could suggest, or custom and religion +sanction, was omitted by the public authorities, nor by the people.</p> +<p>Lord Byron having omitted to give directions for the disposal of +his body, some difficulty arose about fixing the place of interment. +But after being embalmed it was sent, on the 2nd of May, to Zante, where +it was met by Lord Sidney Osborne, a relation of Lord Byron, by marriage—the +secretary of the senate at Corfu.</p> +<p>It was the wish of Lord Sidney Osborne, and others, that the interment +should be in Zante; but the English opposed the proposition in the most +decided manner. It was then suggested that it should be conveyed +to Athens, and deposited in the temple of Theseus, or in the Parthenon—Ulysses +Odysseus, the Governor of Athens, having sent an express to Missolonghi, +to solicit the remains for that city; but, before it arrived, they were +already in Zante, and a vessel engaged to carry them to London, in the +expectation that they would be deposited in Westminster Abbey or St +Paul’s.</p> +<p>On the 25th of May, the <i>Florida</i> left Zante with the body, +which Colonel Stanhope accompanied; and on the 29th of June it reached +the Downs. After the ship was cleared from quarantine, Mr Hobhouse, +with his Lordship’s solicitor, received it from Colonel Stanhope, +and, by their directions it was removed to the house of Sir E. Knatchbull, +in Westminster, where it lay in state several days.</p> +<p>The dignitaries of the Abbey and of St Paul’s having, as it +was said, refused permission to deposit the remains in either of these +great national receptacles of the illustrious dead, it was determined +that they should be laid in the ancestral vault of the Byrons. +The funeral, instead of being public, was in consequence private, and +attended by only a few select friends to Hucknell, a small village about +two miles from Newstead Abbey, in the church of which the vault is situated; +there the coffin was deposited, in conformity to a wish early expressed +by the poet, that his dust might be mingled with his mother’s. +Yet, unmeet and plain as the solemnity was in its circumstances, a remarkable +incident gave it interest and distinction: as it passed along the streets +of London, a sailor was observed walking uncovered near the hearse, +and on being asked what he was doing there, replied that he had served +Lord Byron in the Levant, and had come to pay his last respects to his +remains; a simple but emphatic testimony to the sincerity of that regard +which his Lordship often inspired, and which with more steadiness might +always have commanded.</p> +<p>The coffin bears the following inscription:</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>LORD BYRON, OF ROCHDALE,<br />BORN IN LONDON, JANUARY 22, 1788;<br />DIED +AT MISSOLONGHI,<br />IN WESTERN GREECE,<br />APRIL 19, 1824.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p>Beside the coffin the urn is placed, the inscription on which is,</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines1"><br /></div> +<p><i>Within this urn are deposited the heart</i>, <i>brains</i>, <i>etc. +of the deceased Lord Byron.</i></p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<h2>CHAPTER XLIX</h2> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p><i>The Character of Lord Byron</i></p> +<p>My endeavour, in the foregoing pages, has been to give a general +view of the intellectual character of Lord Byron. It did not accord +with the plan to enter minutely into the details of his private life, +which I suspect was not greatly different from that of any other person +of his rank, not distinguished for particular severity of manners. +In some respects his Lordship was, no doubt, peculiar. He possessed +a vivacity of sensibility not common, and talents of a very extraordinary +kind. He was also distinguished for superior personal elegance, +particularly in his bust. The style and character of his head +were universally admired; but perhaps the beauty of his physiognomy +has been more highly spoken of than it really merited. Its chief +grace consisted, when he was in a gay humour, of a liveliness which +gave a joyous meaning to every articulation of the muscles and features: +when he was less agreeably disposed, the expression was morose to a +very repulsive degree. It is, however, unnecessary to describe +his personal character here. I have already said enough incidentally, +to explain my full opinion of it. In the mass, I do not think +it was calculated to attract much permanent affection or esteem. +In the detail it was the reverse: few men possessed more companionable +qualities than Lord Byron did occasionally; and seen at intervals in +those felicitous moments, I imagine it would have been difficult to +have said, that a more interesting companion had been previously met +with. But he was not always in that fascinating state of pleasantry: +he was as often otherwise; and no two individuals could be more distinct +from each other than Byron in his gaiety and in his misanthropy. +This antithesis was the great cause of that diversity of opinion concerning +him, which has so much divided his friends and adversaries. Of +his character as a poet there can be no difference of opinion, but only +a difference in the degree of admiration.</p> +<p>Excellence in talent, as in every other thing, is comparative; but +the universal republic of letters will acknowledge, that in energy of +expression and liveliness of imagery Byron had no equal in his own time. +Doubts, indeed, may be entertained, if in these high qualities even +Shakspeare himself was his superior.</p> +<p>I am not disposed to think with many of those who rank the genius +of Byron almost as supreme, that he has shown less skill in the construction +of his plots, and the development of his tales, than might have been +expected from one so splendidly endowed; for it has ever appeared to +me that he has accomplished in them everything he proposed to attain, +and that in this consists one of his great merits. His mind, fervid +and impassioned, was in all his compositions, except <i>Don Juan</i>, +eagerly fixed on the catastrophe. He ever held the goal full in +view, and drove to it in the most immediate manner. By this straightforward +simplicity all the interest which intricacy excites was of necessity +disregarded. He is therefore not treated justly when it is supposed +that he might have done better had he shown more art: the wonder is, +that he should have produced such magnificent effects with so little. +He could not have made the satiated and meditative Harold so darkling +and excursive, so lone, “aweary,” and misanthropical, had +he treated him as the hero of a scholastic epic. The might of +the poet in such creations lay in the riches of his diction and in the +felicity with which he described feelings in relation to the aspect +of scenes amid the reminiscences with which the scenes themselves were +associated.</p> +<p>If in language and plan he be so excellent, it may be asked why should +he not be honoured with that pre-eminent niche in the temple which so +many in the world have by suffrage assigned to him? Simply because, +with all the life and beauty of his style, the vigour and truth of his +descriptions, the boldness of his conceptions, and the reach of his +vision in the dark abysses of passion, Lord Byron was but imperfectly +acquainted with human nature. He looked but on the outside of +man. No characteristic action distinguishes one of his heroes +from another, nor is there much dissimilarity in their sentiments; they +have no individuality; they stalk and pass in mist and gloom, grim, +ghastly, and portentous, mysterious shadows, entities of the twilight, +weird things like the sceptred effigies of the unborn issue of Banquo.</p> +<p>Combined with vast power, Lord Byron possessed, beyond all question, +the greatest degree of originality of any poet of this age. In +this rare quality he has no parallel in any age. All other poets +and inventive authors are measured in their excellence by the accuracy +with which they fit sentiments appropriate not only to the characters +they create, but to the situations in which they place them: the works +of Lord Byron display the opposite to this, and with the most extraordinary +splendour. He endows his creations with his own qualities; he +finds in the situations in which he places them only opportunities to +express what he has himself felt or suffered; and yet he mixes so much +probability in the circumstances, that they are always eloquently proper. +He does everything, as it were, the reverse of other poets; in the air +and sea, which have been in all times the emblems of change and the +similitudes of inconstancy, he has discovered the very principles of +permanency. The ocean in his view, not by its vastness, its unfathomable +depths, and its limitless extent, becomes an image of deity, by its +unchangeable character!</p> +<p>The variety of his productions present a prodigious display of power. +In his short career he has entitled himself to be ranked in the first +class of the British poets for quantity alone. By <i>Childe Harold</i>, +and his other poems of the same mood, he has extended the scope of feeling, +made us acquainted with new trains of association, awakened sympathies +which few suspected themselves of possessing; and he has laid open darker +recesses in the bosom than were previously supposed to exist. +The deep and dreadful caverns of remorse had long been explored but +he was the first to visit the bottomless pit of satiety.</p> +<p>The delineation of that Promethean fortitude which defied conscience, +as he has shown it in <i>Manfred</i>, is his greatest achievement. +The terrific fables of Marlowe and of Goethe, in their respective versions +of the legend of Faustus, had disclosed the utmost writhings which remorse +in the fiercest of its torments can express; but what are those Laocoon +agonies to the sublime serenity of <i>Manfred</i>. In the power, +the originality, and the genius combined, of that unexampled performance, +Lord Byron has placed himself on an equality with Milton. The +Satan of the <i>Paradise Lost</i> is animated by motives, and dignified +by an eternal enterprise. He hath purposes of infinite prospect +to perform, and an immeasurable ambition to satisfy. Manfred hath +neither purpose nor ambition, nor any desire that seeks gratification. +He hath done a deed which severs him from hope, as everlastingly as +the apostacy with the angels has done Satan. He acknowledges no +contrition to bespeak commiseration, he complains of no wrong to justify +revenge, for he feels none; he despises sympathy, and almost glories +in his perdition.</p> +<p>The creation of such a character is in the sublimest degree of originality; +to give it appropriate thoughts and feelings required powers worthy +of the conception; and to make it susceptible of being contemplated +as within the scope and range of human sympathy, places Byron above +all his contemporaries and antecedents. Milton has described in +Satan the greatest of human passions, supernatural attributes, directed +to immortal intents, and stung with inextinguishable revenge; but Satan +is only a dilatation of man. Manfred is loftier, and worse than +Satan; he has conquered punishment, having within himself a greater +than hell can inflict. There is a fearful mystery in this conception; +it is only by solemnly questioning the spirits that lurk within the +dark metaphors in which Manfred expresses himself, that the hideous +secrets of the character can be conjectured.</p> +<p>But although in intellectual power, and in creative originality, +Byron is entitled to stand on the highest peak of the mountain, his +verse is often so harsh, and his language so obscure, that in the power +of delighting he is only a poet of the second class. He had all +the talent and the means requisite to embody his conceptions in a manner +worthy of their might and majesty; his treasury was rich in everything +rare and beautiful for illustration, but he possessed not the instinct +requisite to guide him in the selection of the things necessary to the +inspiration of delight:—he could give his statue life and beauty, +and warmth, and motion, and eloquence, but not a tuneful voice.</p> +<p>Some curious metaphysicians, in their subtle criticism, have said +that <i>Don Juan</i> was but the bright side of <i>Childe Harold</i>, +and that all its most brilliant imagery was similar to that of which +the dark and the shadows were delineated in his other works. It +may be so. And, without question, a great similarity runs through +everything that has come from the poet’s pen; but it is a family +resemblance, the progeny are all like one another; but where are those +who are like them? I know of no author in prose or rhyme, in the +English language, with whom Byron can be compared. Imitators of +his manner there will be often and many, but he will ever remain one +of the few whom the world acknowledges are alike supreme, and yet unlike +each other—epochal characters, who mark extraordinary periods +in history.</p> +<p>Raphael is the only man of pre-eminence whose career can be compared +with that of Byron; at an age when the genius of most men is but in +the dawning, they had both attained their meridian of glory, and they +both died so early, that it may be said they were lent to the world +only to show the height to which the mind may ascend when time shall +be allowed to accomplish the full cultivations of such extraordinary +endowments.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines2"><br /><br /></div> +<p>Footnotes:</p> +<p><a name="footnote156"></a><a href="#citation156">{156}</a> +<i>I.e</i>., against.</p> +<p><a name="footnote241"></a><a href="#citation241">{241}</a> +The sacrifice of Antinous by the emperor Adrian is supposed to have +been a sacrifice of that kind. Dion Cassius says, that Adrian, +who had applied himself to the study of magic, being deceived by the +principles of that black Egyptian art into a belief that he would be +rendered immortal by a voluntary human sacrifice to the infernal gods, +accepted the offer which Antinous made of himself.</p> +<p>I have somewhere met with a commentary on this to the following effect:</p> +<p>The Christian religion, in the time of Adrian, was rapidly spreading +throughout the empire, and the doctrine of gaining eternal life by the +expiatory offering was openly preached. The Egyptian priests, +who pretended to be in possession of all knowledge, affected to be acquainted +with this mystery also. The emperor was, by his taste and his +vices, attached to the old religion; but he trembled at the truths disclosed +by the revelation; and in this state of apprehension, his thirst of +knowledge and his fears led him to consult the priests of Osiris and +Isis; and they impressed him with a notion that the infernal deities +would be appeased by the sacrifice of a human being dear to him, and +who loved him so entirely as to lay down his life for him. Antinous, +moved by the anxiety of his imperial master, when all others had refused, +consented to sacrifice himself; and it was for this devotion that Adrian +caused his memory to be hallowed with religious rites.</p> +<p><a name="footnote255"></a><a href="#citation255">{255}</a> +Mr Hobhouse has assured me that this information is not correct. +“I happen,” says he, “to know that Lord Byron offered +to give the Guiccioli a sum of money outright, or to leave it to her +by his will. I also happen to know that the lady would not hear +of any such present or provision; for I have a letter in which Lord +Byron extols her disinterestedness, and mentions that he has met with +a similar refusal from another female. As to the being in destitute +circumstances, I cannot believe it; for Count Gamba, her brother, whom +I knew very well after Lord Byron’s death, never made any complaint +or mention of such a fact: add to which, I know a maintenance was provided +for her by her husband, in consequence of a law process, before the +death of Lord Byron.”</p> +<p><a name="footnote291a"></a><a href="#citation291a">{291a}</a> +The calenture.</p> +<p><a name="footnote291b"></a><a href="#citation291b">{291b}</a> +The Swiss air.</p> +<p><a name="footnote319"></a><a href="#citation319">{319}</a> +The doctor evidently makes a mistake in confounding Sir William Hamilton +with Sir William Drummond.</p> +<p><a name="footnote354"></a><a href="#citation354">{354}</a> +Fletcher’s narrative implies at six that evening, the 19th April, +1824.</p> +<div class="GutenbergBlankLines3"><br /><br /><br /></div> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LIFE OF LORD BYRON***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 10421-h.htm or 10421-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/4/2/10421 + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS," WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Each eBook is in a subdirectory of the same number as the eBook's +eBook number, often in several formats including plain vanilla ASCII, +compressed (zipped), HTML and others. + +Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks replace the old file and take over +the old filename and etext number. The replaced older file is renamed. +VERSIONS based on separate sources are treated as new eBooks receiving +new filenames and etext numbers. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + +https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +EBooks posted prior to November 2003, with eBook numbers BELOW #10000, +are filed in directories based on their release date. If you want to +download any of these eBooks directly, rather than using the regular +search system you may utilize the following addresses and just +download by the etext year. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext06 + + (Or /etext 05, 04, 03, 02, 01, 00, 99, + 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90) + +EBooks posted since November 2003, with etext numbers OVER #10000, are +filed in a different way. The year of a release date is no longer part +of the directory path. The path is based on the etext number (which is +identical to the filename). The path to the file is made up of single +digits corresponding to all but the last digit in the filename. For +example an eBook of filename 10234 would be found at: + +https://www.gutenberg.org/1/0/2/3/10234 + +or filename 24689 would be found at: +https://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/6/8/24689 + +An alternative method of locating eBooks: +https://www.gutenberg.org/GUTINDEX.ALL + +*** END: FULL LICENSE *** +</pre></body> +</html> |