Byron: The Last Phase Part 1

Byron.

by Richard Edgc.u.mbe.

PREFACE

This book has no pretensions; it is merely a record of events and impressions which nearly forty years of close study have acc.u.mulated.

There seems to be a general agreement that the closing scenes of Byron's short life have not been adequately depicted by his biographers. From the time of Byron's departure from Ravenna, in the autumn of 1821, his disposition and conduct underwent a transformation so complete that it would have been difficult to recognize, in the genial, unselfish personality who played so effective a role at Missolonghi, the gloomy misanthrope of 1811, or the reckless libertine of the following decade.

The conduct of Byron in Greece seems to have come as a revelation to his contemporaries, and his direction of complex affairs, in peculiarly trying circ.u.mstances, certainly deserves more attention than it has received.

Records made on the spot by men whose works are now, for the most part, out of print have greatly simplified my task, and I hope that the following pages may be acceptable to those who have not had an opportunity of studying that picturesque phase of Byron's career. I should have much preferred to preserve silence on the subject of his separation from his wife. Unfortunately, the late Lord Lovelace, in giving his sanction to the baseless and forgotten slanders of a bygone age, has recently a.s.sailed the memory of Byron's half-sister, and has set a mark of infamy upon her which cannot be erased without referring to matters which ought never to have been mentioned.

In order to traverse statements made in 'Astarte,' it was necessary to reveal an incident which, during Byron's lifetime, was known only by those who were pledged to silence. With fuller knowledge of things hidden from Byron's contemporaries, we may realize the cruelty of those futile persecutions to which Mrs. Leigh was subjected by Lady Byron and her advisers, under the impression that they could extract the confession of a crime which existed only in their prurient imaginations. Mrs. Leigh, in one of her letters to Hobhouse, says, 'I have made it a rule to be silent--that is to say, AS LONG AS I CAN.' Although the strain must have been almost insupportable she died with her secret unrevealed, and the mystery which Byron declared 'too simple to be easily found out' has. .h.i.therto remained unsolved. I regret being unable more precisely to indicate the source of information embodied in the concluding portions of this work. The reader may test the value of my statements by the light of citations which seem amply to confirm them. At all events, I claim to have shown by a.n.a.logy that Lord Lovelace's accusation against Mrs. Leigh is groundless, and therefore his contention, that Byron's memoirs were destroyed _because they implicated Mrs. Leigh_, is absolutely untenable.

Those memoirs were destroyed, as we now know, because both Hobhouse and Mrs. Leigh feared possible revelations concerning another person, whose feelings and interests formed the paramount consideration of those who were parties to the deed. Lord John Russell, who had read the memoirs, stated in 1869 that Mrs. Leigh was _not_ implicated in them, a fact which proves that they were not burned for the purpose of shielding _her_.

Lord Lovelace tells us that Sir Walter Scott, who had heard full particulars from Thomas Moore, remarked, 'It is a pity, but there _was_ a reason--_premat nox alta_.' Facts which they hoped deep oblivion would hide have come to the surface at last, and I deeply regret that circ.u.mstances should have imposed upon me a duty which is repugnant both to my inclination and instincts. After all is said, the blame rightly belongs to Lady Byron's grandson, who, heedless of consequences, stirred the depths of a muddy pool. He tells us, in 'Astarte,' (1) that the papers concerning Byron's marriage have been carefully preserved; (2) that they form _a complete record of all the causes of separation_; and (3) that they contain _full information on every part of the subject_.

In those circ.u.mstances it is strange that, with the whole of Lady Byron's papers before him, Lord Lovelace should have published only doc.u.ments of secondary importance which do not prove his case. After saying, 'It should be distinctly understood that no misfortunes, blunders, or malpractices, have swept away Lady Byron's papers, or those belonging to the executors of Lord Byron,' he leaves the essential records to the imagination of his readers, and feeds us on hints and suggestions which are not borne out by extracts provided as samples of the rest. It is impossible not to suspect that Lord Lovelace, in arranging the papers committed to his charge, discarded some that would have told in favour of Mrs. Leigh, and selected others which colourably supported his peculiar views.

In matters of this kind everything depends upon the qualifications of the accuser and the reliability of the witness. Lord Lovelace in a dual capacity certainly evinced an active imagination.

As an example, 'Astarte,' which was designed to blast the fair fame of Mrs. Leigh, was used by him to insult the memory of the late Mr. Murray (who he admits showed him many acts of kindness), and to repudiate promises which he undoubtedly made, to edit his grandfather's works.

Rambling statements are made with design to discredit both Mr. Gifford, the editor of the _Quarterly_, and Mr. Murray, the friend of Lord Byron.

Even personal defects are dragged in to prejudice the reader and embitter the venom of irrelevant abuse. It was as if Plutarch, in order to enhance the glory of Antony, had named 'the Last of the Romans' Ca.s.sius the Short-sighted. Fortunately, written proofs were in existence to controvert Lord Lovelace's a.s.sertions--proofs which were used with crushing effect--otherwise Mr. Murray might have found himself in a position quite as helpless as that of poor Mrs. Leigh herself. So unscrupulous a use of doc.u.ments in that case suggests the possibility that a similar process may have been adopted in reference to Mrs. Leigh. It is indeed unfortunate that Lady Byron's papers cannot be inspected by some unprejudiced person, for we have nothing at present beyond Lord Lovelace's vague a.s.sertions.

Were those papers thoroughly sifted they would surely acquit Mrs. Leigh of the crime that has been so cruelly laid to her charge. Meanwhile I venture to think that the following pages help to clear the air of much of that mystery which surrounds the lives of Lord Byron and his sister.

In conclusion, I desire to record my personal obligation to the latest edition of the 'Poems,' edited by Mr. Ernest Hartley Coleridge; and of the 'Letters and Journals,' edited by Mr. Rowland Prothero, volumes which together form the most comprehensive and scholarly record of Byron's life and poetry that has ever been issued.

R. E.

_August, 1909._

BYRON: THE LAST PHASE

PART I

'... Le cose ti fien conte, Quando noi fermerem li nostri pa.s.si Sulla trista riviera d' Acheronte.'

_Inferno_, Canto III., 76-78.

CHAPTER I

'A large disagreeable city, almost without inhabitants'--such was the poet Sh.e.l.ley's description of Pisa in 1821. The Arno was yellow and muddy, the streets were empty, and there was altogether an air of poverty and wretchedness in the town. The convicts, who were very numerous, worked in the streets in gangs, cleaning and sweeping them. They were dressed in red, and were chained together by the leg in pairs. All day long one heard the slow clanking of their chains, and the rumbling of the carts they were forced to drag from place to place like so many beasts of burden. A spectator could not but be struck by the appearance of helpless misery stamped on their yellow cheeks and emaciated forms.

On the Lung' Arno Mediceo, east of the Ponte di Mezzo, stands the Palazzo Lanfranchi, which is supposed to have been built by Michael Angelo. Here, on November 2, 1821, Lord Byron arrived, with his servants, his horses, his monkey, bulldog, mastiff, cats, peafowl, hens, and other live stock, which he had brought with him from Ravenna. In another quarter of the city resided Count Rugiero Gamba, his son Pietro, and his daughter Countess Teresa Guiccioli. On the other side of the Arno, nearly opposite to Byron's residence, lived the poet Sh.e.l.ley, with his wife and their friends Edward and Jane Williams.

In the middle of November, Captain Thomas Medwin, a relative of Sh.e.l.ley's, arrived at Pisa; and on January 14, 1822, came Edward John Trelawny, who was destined to play so important a part in the last scenes of the lives of both Sh.e.l.ley and Byron.

Byron was at this time in his thirty-third year. Medwin thus describes his personal appearance:

'I saw a man of about five feet seven or eight, apparently forty years of age. As was said of Milton, Lord Byron barely escaped being short and thick. His face was fine, and the lower part symmetrically moulded; for the lips and chin had that curved and definite outline that distinguishes Grecian beauty. His forehead was high, and his temples broad; and he had a paleness in his complexion almost to wanness. His hair, thin and fine, had almost become grey, and waved in natural and graceful curls over his head, that was a.s.similating itself fast to the "bald first Caesar's." He allowed it to grow longer behind than it is accustomed to be worn, and at that time had mustachios which were not sufficiently dark to be becoming. In criticizing his features, it might, perhaps, be said that his eyes were placed too near his nose, and that one was rather smaller than the other. They were of a greyish-brown, but of a peculiar clearness, and when animated possessed a fire which seemed to look through and penetrate the thoughts of others, while they marked the inspirations of his own.

His teeth were small, regular, and white. I expected to discover that he had a club-foot; but it would have been difficult to have distinguished one from the other, either in size or in form. On the whole, his figure was manly, and his countenance handsome and prepossessing, and very expressive. The familiar ease of his conversation soon made me perfectly at home in his society.'

Trelawny's description is as follows:

'In external appearance Byron realized that ideal standard with which imagination adorns genius. He was in the prime of life, thirty-four; of middle height, five feet eight and a half inches; regular features, without a stain or furrow on his pallid skin; his shoulders broad, chest open, body and limbs finely proportioned. His small highly-finished head and curly hair had an airy and graceful appearance from the ma.s.siveness and length of his throat; you saw his genius in his eyes and lips.'

Trelawny could find no peculiarity in his dress, which was adapted to the climate. Byron wore:

'a tartan jacket braided--he said it was the Gordon pattern, and that his mother was of that race--a blue velvet cap with a gold band, and very loose nankin trousers, strapped down so as to cover his feet. His throat was not bare, as represented in drawings.'

Lady Blessington, who first saw Byron in April of the following year, thus describes him:

'The impression of the first few minutes disappointed me, as I had, both from the portraits and descriptions given, conceived a different idea of him. I had fancied him taller, with a more dignified and commanding air; and I looked in vain for the hero-looking sort of person, with whom I had so long identified him in imagination. His appearance is, however, highly prepossessing. His head is finely shaped, and his forehead open, high, and n.o.ble; his eyes are grey and full of expression, but one is visibly larger than the other. The nose is large and well shaped, but, from being a little _too thick_, it looks better in profile than in front-face; his mouth is the most remarkable feature in his face, the upper lip of Grecian shortness, and the corners descending; the lips full, and finely cut.

'In speaking, he shows his teeth very much, and they are white and even; but I observed that even in his smile--and he smiles frequently--there is something of a scornful expression in his mouth, that is evidently natural, and not, as many suppose, affected. This particularly struck me. His chin is large and well shaped, and finishes well the oval of his face. He is extremely thin--indeed, so much so that his figure has almost a boyish air. His face is peculiarly pale, but not the paleness of ill-health, as its character is that of fairness, the fairness of a dark-haired person; and his hair (which is getting rapidly grey) is of a very dark brown, and curls naturally: he uses a good deal of oil in it, which makes it look still darker. His countenance is full of expression, and changes with the subject of conversation; it gains on the beholder the more it is seen, and leaves an agreeable impression.... His whole appearance is remarkably gentlemanlike, and he owes nothing of this to his toilet, as his coat appears to have been many years made, is much too large--and all his garments convey the idea of having been purchased ready-made, so ill do they fit him. There is a _gaucherie_ in his movements, which evidently proceeds from the perpetual consciousness of his lameness, that appears to haunt him; for he tries to conceal his foot when seated, and when walking has a nervous rapidity in his manner. He is very slightly lame, and the deformity of his foot is so little remarkable, that I am not now aware which foot it is.

'His voice and accent are peculiarly agreeable, but effeminate--clear, harmonious, and so distinct, that though his general tone in speaking is rather low than high, not a word is lost. His manners are as unlike my preconceived notions of them as is his appearance. I had expected to find him a dignified, cold, reserved, and haughty person, but nothing can be more different; for were I to point out the prominent defect of Lord Byron, I should say it was flippancy, and a total want of that natural self-possession and dignity, which ought to characterize a man of birth and education.'

Medwin tells us, in his 'Journal of the Conversations of Lord Byron,' that Byron's voice had a flexibility, a variety in its tones, a power and pathos, beyond any he ever heard; and his countenance was capable of expressing the tenderest as well as the strongest emotions, which would perhaps have made him the finest actor in the world.

The Countess Guiccioli, who had a longer acquaintance with Byron than any of those who have attempted to portray him, says:

'Lord Byron's eyes, though of a light grey, were capable of all extremes of expression, from the most joyous hilarity to the deepest sadness, from the very sunshine of benevolence to the most concentrated scorn or rage. But it was in the mouth and chin that the great beauty as well as expression of his fine countenance lay. His head was remarkably small, so much so as to be rather out of proportion to his face. The forehead, though a little too narrow, was high, and appeared more so from his having his hair (to preserve it, as he said) shaved over the temples. Still, the glossy dark brown curls, cl.u.s.tering over his head, gave the finish to its beauty. When to this is added that his nose, though handsomely, was rather thickly shaped, that his teeth were white and regular, and his complexion colourless, as good an idea, perhaps, as it is in the power of mere words to convey may be conceived of his features. In height he was five feet eight inches and a half. His hands were very white, and, according to his own notions of the size of hands as indicating birth, aristocratically small.... No defect existed in the formation of his limbs; his slight infirmity was nothing but the result of weakness of one of his ankles. His habit of ever being on horseback had brought on the emaciation of his legs, as evinced by the post-mortem examination; the best proof of this is the testimony of William Swift, bootmaker at Southwell, who had the honour of working for Lord Byron from 1805 to 1807.'

It appears that Mrs. Wildman (the widow of the Colonel who had bought Newstead from Byron) not long before her death presented to the Naturalist Society of Nottingham several objects which had belonged to Lord Byron, and amongst others his boot and shoe trees. These trees are about nine inches long, narrow, and generally of a symmetrical form. They were accompanied by the following statement:

'William Swift, bootmaker at Southwell, Nottinghamshire, having had the honour of working for Lord Byron when residing at Southwell from 1805 to 1807, a.s.serts that these were the trees upon which his lordship's boots and shoes were made, and that the last pair delivered was on the 10th May, 1807. He moreover affirms that his lordship had not a club foot, as has been said, but that both his feet were equally well formed, one, however, being an inch and a half shorter than the other.[1] The defect was not in the foot, but in the ankle, which, being weak, caused the foot to turn out too much. To remedy this, his lordship wore a very light and thin boot, which was tightly laced just under the sole, and, when a boy, he was made to wear a piece of iron with a joint at the ankle, which pa.s.sed behind the leg and was tied behind the shoe. The calf of this leg was weaker than the other, and it was the left leg.

'(Signed) WILLIAM SWIFT.'

'This, then,' says Countess Guiccioli, 'is the extent of the defect of which so much has been said, and which has been called a deformity. As to its being visible, all those who knew him a.s.sert that it was so little evident, that it was even impossible to discover in which of the legs or feet the fault existed.'

Byron's alleged sensitiveness on the subject of his lameness seems to have been exaggerated.

'When he did show it,' continues Countess Guiccioli, 'which was never but to a very modest extent, it was only because, physically speaking, he suffered from it. Under the sole of the weak foot he at times experienced a painful sensation, especially after long walks. Once, at Genoa, Byron walked down the hill from Albaro to the seash.o.r.e with me by a rugged and rough path. When we had reached the sh.o.r.e he was very well and lively. But it was an exceedingly hot day, and the return home fatigued him greatly. When home, I told him that I thought he looked ill. "Yes," said he, "I suffer greatly from my foot; it can hardly be conceived how much I suffer at times from that pain;" and he continued to speak to me about this defect with great simplicity and indifference.'

We have been particular to set before the reader the impression which Byron's personal appearance made upon those who saw him at this time, because none of the busts or portraits seem to convey anything like an accurate semblance of this extraordinary personality. Had the reader seen Byron in his various moods, he would doubtless have exclaimed, with Sir Walter Scott, that 'no picture is like him.'