The Life of Lord Byron Part 21

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 Lords.h.i.+p'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 pa.s.sed six weeks at Monte Nero, a country house in the vicinity of that city.

It was during his Lords.h.i.+p'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 Lords.h.i.+p--at least this is the impression his conduct made upon me, from the familiarity of his dedicatory epistle prefixed to Rimini to their riding out at Pisa together dressed alike--"We had blue frock- coats, white waistcoats and trousers, and velvet caps, a la Raphael, and cut a gallant figure." I do not discover on the part of Lord Byron, that his Lords.h.i.+p 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 lords.h.i.+p, 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.

The occasion of Hunt's removal to Italy will be best explained by quoting the letter from his friend Sh.e.l.ley, by which he was induced to take that obviously imprudent step.

"Pisa, Aug. 26, 1821.

"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.'

"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 partners.h.i.+p. 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 a.s.suming 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.

"I did not ask Lord Byron to a.s.sist 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." . . .

Now, before proceeding farther, it seems from this epistle, and there is no reason to question Sh.e.l.ley's veracity, that Lord Byron was the projector of The Liberal; that Hunt's political notoriety was mistaken for literary reputation, and that there was a sad lack of common sense in the whole scheme.

CHAPTER x.x.xVIII

Mr Hunt arrives in Italy--Meeting with Lord Byron--Tumults in the House--Arrangements for Mr Hunt's Family---Extent of his Obligations to Lord Byron--Their Copartnery--Meanness of the whole Business

On receiving Mr Sh.e.l.ley'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 Lords.h.i.+p had taken up his temporary residence at Monte Nero.

The meeting with his Lords.h.i.+p 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.

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.

His Lords.h.i.+p 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 a.s.saulting 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.

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 Lords.h.i.+p, 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 Lords.h.i.+p, 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 Sh.e.l.ley, 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 Lords.h.i.+p. The two hundred pounds already mentioned was a debt to Mr Sh.e.l.ley, who borrowed the money from Lord Byron.

Soon after Mr Hunt's family were settled in their new lodgings, Sh.e.l.ley 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 Sh.e.l.ley, 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."

"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 Sh.e.l.ley, 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.

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 Lords.h.i.+p's conduct is the least justifiable. He had allured Hunt to Italy with flattering hopes; he had a perfect knowledge of his hampered circ.u.mstances, 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 antic.i.p.ations of their scheme.

Viewing their copartnery, however, as a mere commercial speculation, his Lords.h.i.+p'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 hara.s.sed 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.

But the dissolution of the vapour with which both parties were so intoxicated, and which led to their quarrel, might have occasioned only amus.e.m.e.nt to the world, had it not left an ign.o.ble 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.

There is no disputing the fact, that his Lords.h.i.+p, in conceiving the plan of The Liberal, 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 Lords.h.i.+p's rank and celebrity, I do not undertake to judge; but any individual was good enough for that vile prost.i.tution 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 a.s.sociating 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 a.s.sociate of Byron, but only as having attempted to deface his monument.

CHAPTER x.x.xIX

Mr Sh.e.l.ley--Sketch of his Life--His Death--The Burning of his Body, and the Return of the Mourners

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 circ.u.mstance came to pa.s.s which was in itself remarkable, or likely to have produced an impression on his Lords.h.i.+p's mind. His friends.h.i.+p with Mr Sh.e.l.ley, mentioned in the preceding chapter, was an instance of this kind.

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 Lords.h.i.+p; but even had there been neither sympathy nor friends.h.i.+p between them, his premature fate could not but have saddened Byron with no common sorrow.

Mr Sh.e.l.ley was some years younger than his n.o.ble friend; he was the eldest son of Sir Timothy Sh.e.l.ley, Bart., of Castle Goring, Suss.e.x.

At the age of thirteen he was sent to Eton, where he rarely mixed in the common amus.e.m.e.nts 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 publis.h.i.+ng a pamphlet, under the absurd and world-defying t.i.tle of The Necessity of Atheism; for which he was expelled from the University.

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.

After their marriage the young couple resided some time in Edinburgh.

They then pa.s.sed over to Ireland, which being in a state of disturbance, Sh.e.l.ley took a part in politics, more reasonable than might have been expected. He inculcated moderation.

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.

His rash marriage proved, of course, an unhappy one. After the birth of two children, a separation, by mutual consent, took place, and Mrs Sh.e.l.ley committed suicide.

He then married a daughter of Mr G.o.dwin, the author of Caleb Williams, and they resided for some time at Great Marlow, in Buckinghams.h.i.+re, 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 embarra.s.sments, induced him to quit England, with the intention of never returning.

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 friends.h.i.+p with his Lords.h.i.+p; he thence pa.s.sed 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.

When he had seen Mr Hunt established in the Casa Lanfranchi with Lord Byron at Pisa, Mr Sh.e.l.ley returned to Leghorn, for the purpose of taking a sea excursion; an amus.e.m.e.nt 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 sh.o.r.e; Mr Sh.e.l.ley'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.

Wood in abundance was found on the sh.o.r.e, 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 a.s.sociations of cla.s.sic 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.

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 sc.r.a.ps of the dead man's own song of Faust, Mephistophiles, and Ignis Fatuus, in alternate chorus.

The limits of the sphere of dream, The bounds of true and false are past; Lead us on, thou wand'ring Gleam; Lead us onwards, far and fast, To the wide, the desert waste.

But see how swift, advance and s.h.i.+ft, Trees behind trees--row by row, Now clift by clift, rocks bend and lift, Their frowning foreheads as we go; The giant-snouted crags, ho! ho!

How they snort, and how they blow.

Honour her to whom honour is due, Old mother Baubo, honour to you.

An able sow with old Baubo upon her Is worthy of glory and worthy of honour.

The way is wide, the way is long, But what is that for a Bedlam throng?

Some on a ram, and some on a p.r.o.ng, On poles and on broomsticks we flutter along.