"I have had a friend of your Mr. Irving's--a very pretty lad--a Mr.

Coolidge, of Boston--only somewhat too full of poesy and 'entusymusy.' I was very civil to him during his few hours' stay, and talked with him much of Irving, whose writings are my delight.

But I suspect that he did not take quite so much to me, from his having expected to meet a misanthropical gentleman, in wolf-skin breeches, and answering in fierce monosyllables, instead of a man of this world. I can never get people to understand that poetry is the expression of _excited pa.s.sion_, and that there is no such thing as a life of pa.s.sion any more than a continuous earthquake, or an eternal fever. Besides, who would ever _shave_ themselves in such a state?

"I have had a curious letter to-day from a girl in England (I never saw her), who says she is given over of a decline, but could not go out of the world without thanking me for the delight which my poesy for several years, &c. &c. &c. It is signed simply N.N.A. and has not a word of 'cant' or preachment in it upon _any_ opinions. She merely says that she is dying, and that as I had contributed so highly to her existing pleasure, she thought that she might say so, begging me to _burn_ her _letter_--which, by the way, I can _not_ do, as I look upon such a letter in such circ.u.mstances as better than a diploma from Gottingen. I once had a letter from Drontheim, in _Norway_ (but not from a dying woman), in verse, on the same score of gratulation. These are the things which make one at times believe one's self a poet. But if I must believe that * * * * * and such fellows, are poets also, it is better to be out of the corps.

"I am now in the fifth act of 'Foscari,' being the third tragedy in twelve months, besides _proses_; so you perceive that I am not at all idle. And are you, too, busy? I doubt that your life at Paris draws too much upon your time, which is a pity. Can't you divide your day, so as to combine both? I have had plenty of all sorts of worldly business on my hands last year, and yet it is not so difficult to give a few hours to the Muses. This sentence is so like * * * * that ----

"Ever, &c.

"If we were together, I should publish both my plays (periodically) in our _joint_ journal. It should be our plan to publish all our best things in that way."

In the Journal ent.i.tled "Detached Thoughts," I find the tribute to his genius which he here mentions, as well as some others, thus interestingly dwelt upon.

"As far as fame goes (that is to say, _living_ fame) I have had my share, perhaps--indeed, _certainly_--more than my deserts.

"Some odd instances have occurred to my own experience, of the wild and strange places to which a name may penetrate, and where it may impress.

Two years ago (almost three, being in August or July, 1819,) I received at Ravenna a letter, in _English_ verse, from _Drontheim_ in Norway, written by a Norwegian, and full of the usual compliments, &c. &c. It is still somewhere amongst my papers. In the same month I received an invitation into _Holstein_ from a Mr. Jacobsen (I think) of Hamburgh: also, by the same medium, a translation of Medora's song in The Corsair by a Westphalian baroness (_not_ 'Thunderton-Tronck'), with some original verses of hers (very pretty and Klopstock-ish), and a prose translation annexed to them, on the subject of my wife:--as they concerned her more than me. I sent them to her, together with Mr.

Jacobsen's letter. It was odd enough to receive an invitation to pa.s.s the _summer_ in _Holstein_ while in _Italy_, from people I never knew.

The letter was addressed to Venice. Mr. Jacobsen talked to me of the 'wild roses growing in the Holstein summer.' Why then did the Cimbri and Teutones emigrate?

"What a strange thing is life and man! Were I to present myself at the door of the house where my daughter now is, the door would be shut in my face--unless (as is not impossible) I knocked down the porter; and if I had gone in that year (and perhaps now) to Drontheim (the furthest town in Norway), or into Holstein, I should have been received with open arms into the mansion of strangers and foreigners, attached to me by no tie but that of mind and rumour.

"As far as _fame_ goes, I have had my share: it has indeed been leavened by other human contingencies, and this in a greater degree than has occurred to most literary men of a _decent_ rank in life; but, on the whole, I take it that such equipoise is the condition of humanity."

Of the visit, too, of the American gentleman, he thus speaks in the same Journal.

"A young American, named Coolidge, called on me not many months ago. He was intelligent, very handsome, and not more than twenty years old, according to appearances; a little romantic, but that sits well upon youth, and mighty fond of poesy, as may be suspected from his approaching me in my cavern. He brought me a message from an old servant of my family (Joe Murray), and told me that _he_ (Mr. Coolidge) had obtained a copy of my bust from Thorwaldsen at Rome, to send to America. I confess I was more flattered by this young enthusiasm of a solitary trans-Atlantic traveller, than if they had decreed me a statue in the Paris Pantheon (I have seen emperors and demagogues cast down from their pedestals even in my own time, and Grattan's name rased from the street called after him in Dublin); I say that I was more flattered by it, because it was _single, unpolitical_, and was without motive or ostentation,--the pure and warm feeling of a boy for the poet he admired. It must have been expensive, though;--_I_ would not pay the price of a Thorwaldsen bust for any human head and shoulders, except Napoleon's, or my children's, or some '_absurd womankind's_,' as Monkbarns calls them,--or my sister's. If asked _why_, then, I sat for my own?--Answer, that it was at the particular request of J.C. Hobhouse, Esq. and for no one else. A _picture_ is a different matter;--every body sits for their picture;--but a bust looks like putting up pretensions to permanency, and smacks something of a hankering for _public_ fame rather than private remembrance.

"Whenever an American requests to see me (which is not unfrequently), I comply, firstly, because I respect a people who acquired their freedom by their firmness without excess; and, secondly, because these trans-Atlantic visits, 'few and far between,' make me feel as if talking with posterity from the other side of the Styx. In a century or two the new English and Spanish Atlantides will be masters of the old countries, in all probability, as Greece and Europe overcame their mother Asia in the older or earlier ages, as they are called."

LETTER 437. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Ravenna, July 6. 1821.

"In agreement with a wish expressed by Mr. Hobhouse, it is my determination to omit the stanza upon the _horse of Semiramis_ in the fifth Canto of Don Juan. I mention this in case you are, or intend to be, the publisher of the remaining Cantos.

"At the particular request of the Contessa G. I have promised _not_ to continue Don Juan. You will therefore look upon these three Cantos as the last of the poem. She had read the two first in the French translation, and never ceased beseeching me to write no more of it. The reason of this is not at first obvious to a superficial observer of FOREIGN manners; but it arises from the wish of all women to exalt the sentiment of the pa.s.sions, and to keep up the illusion which is their empire. Now Don Juan strips off this illusion, and laughs at that and most other things. I never knew a woman who did _not_ protect _Rousseau_, nor one who did not dislike De Grammont, Gil Bias, and all the comedy of the pa.s.sions, when brought out naturally. But 'king's blood must keep word,' as Serjeant Bothwell says."

LETTER, 438. TO MR. MURRAY.

"July 14. 1821.

"I trust that Sardanapalus will not be mistaken for a _political_ play, which was so far from my intention, that I thought of nothing but Asiatic history. The Venetian play, too, is rigidly historical.

My object has been to dramatise, like the Greeks (a _modest_ phrase), striking pa.s.sages of history, as they did of history and mythology. You will find all this very _un_like Shakspeare; and so much the better in one sense, for I look upon him to be the _worst_ of models[40], though the most extraordinary of writers. It has been my object to be as simple and severe as Alfieri, and I have broken down the _poetry_ as nearly as I could to common language.

The hardship is, that in these times one can neither speak of kings nor queens without suspicion of politics or personalities. I intended neither.

"I am not very well, and I write in the midst of unpleasant scenes here: they have, without trial or process, banished several of the first inhabitants of the cities--here and all around the Roman states--amongst them many of my personal friends, so that every thing is in confusion and grief: it is a kind of thing which cannot be described without an equal pain as in beholding it.

"You are very n.i.g.g.ardly in your letters.

"Yours truly,

"B."

[Footnote 40: In venturing this judgment upon Shakspeare, Lord Byron but followed in the footsteps of his great idol Pope. "It was mighty simple in Rowe," says this poet, "to write a play now professedly in Shakspeare's style, that is, professedly in the style of a bad age."--Spence, sect. 4. 1734-36. Of Milton, too, Pope seems to have held pretty nearly the same opinion as that professed by Lord Byron in some of these letters. See, in Spence, sect. 5 1737-39, a pa.s.sage on which his editor remarks--"Perhaps Pope did not relish Shakspeare more than he seems to have done Milton."]

LETTER 439. TO MR. MURRAY.

"Ravenna, July 22. 1821.

"The printer has done wonders;--he has read what I cannot--my own handwriting.

"I _oppose_ the 'delay till winter:' I am particularly anxious to print while the _winter theatres_ are _closed_, to gain time, in case they try their former piece of politeness. Any _loss_ shall be considered in our contract, whether occasioned by the season or other causes; but print away, and publish.

"I think they must own that I have more _styles_ than one.

'Sardanapalus' is, however, almost a comic character: but, for that matter, so is Richard the Third. Mind the _unities_, which are my great object of research. I am glad that Gifford likes it: as for 'the million,' you see I have carefully consulted any thing but the _taste_ of the day for extravagant 'coups de theatre.' Any probable loss, as I said before, will be allowed for in our accompts. The reviews (except one or two--Blackwood's, for instance) are cold enough; but never mind those fellows: I shall send them to the right about, if I take it into my head. I always found the English _baser_ in some things than any other nation. You stare, but it's true as to grat.i.tude,--perhaps because they are prouder, and proud people hate obligations.

"The tyranny of the Government here is breaking out. They have exiled about a thousand people of the best families all over the Roman states. As many of my friends are amongst them, I think of moving too, but not till I have had your answers. Continue _your address_ to me _here_, as usual, and quickly. What you will _not_ be sorry to hear is, that the _poor_ of the place, hearing that I meant to go, got together a pet.i.tion to the Cardinal to request that _he_ would request me to _remain_. I only heard of it a day or two ago, and it is no dishonour to them nor to me; but it will have displeased the higher powers, who look upon me as a Chief of the Coalheavers. They arrested a servant of mine for a street quarrel with an officer (they drew upon one another knives and pistols), but as _the officer_ was out of uniform, and in the _wrong_ besides, on my protesting stoutly, he was released. I was not present at the affray, which happened by night near my stables. My man (an Italian), a very stout and not over-patient personage, would have taken a fatal revenge afterwards, if I had not prevented him. As it was, he drew his stiletto, and, but for pa.s.sengers, would have carbonadoed the captain, who, I understand, made but a poor figure in the quarrel, except by beginning it. He applied to me, and I offered him any satisfaction, either by turning away the man, or otherwise, because he had drawn a knife. He answered that a reproof would be sufficient. I reproved him; and yet, after this, the shabby dog complained to the _Government_,--after being quite satisfied, as he said. _This_ roused me, and I gave them a remonstrance which had some effect. The captain has been reprimanded, the servant released, and the business at present rests there."

Among the victims of the "black sentence and proscription" by which the rulers of Italy were now, as appears from the above letters, avenging their late alarm upon all who had even in the remotest degree contributed to it, the two Gambas were, of course, as suspected Chiefs of the Carbonari of Romagna, included. About the middle of July, Madame Guiccioli, in a state of despair, wrote to inform Lord Byron that her father, in whose palazzo she was at that time residing, had just been ordered to quit Ravenna within twenty-four hours, and that it was the intention of her brother to depart the following morning. The young Count, however, was not permitted to remain even so long, being arrested that very night, and conveyed by soldiers to the frontier; and the Contessa herself, in but a few days after, found that she also must join the crowd of exiles. The prospect of being again separated from her n.o.ble friend seems to have rendered banishment little less fearful, in her eyes, than death. "This alone," she says in a letter to him, "was wanting to fill up the measure of my despair. Help me, my dear Byron, for I am in a situation most terrible; and without you, I can resolve upon nothing. * * has just been with me, having been sent by * * to tell me that I must depart from Ravenna before next Tuesday, as my husband has had recourse to Rome, for the purpose of either forcing me to return to him, or else putting me in a convent; and the answer from thence is expected in a few days. I must not speak of this to any one,--I roust escape by night; for, if my project should be discovered, it will be impeded, and my pa.s.sport (which the goodness of Heaven has permitted me, I know not how, to obtain) will be taken from me. Byron! I am in despair!--If I must leave you here without knowing when I shall see you again, if it is your will that I should suffer so cruelly, I am resolved to remain. They may put me in a convent; I shall die,--but--but then you cannot aid me, and I cannot reproach you. I know not what they tell me, for my agitation overwhelms me;--and why? Not because I fear my present danger, but solely, I call Heaven to witness, solely because I must leave you."

Towards the latter end of July, the writer of this tender and truly feminine letter found herself forced to leave Ravenna,--the home of her youth, as it was, now, of her heart,--uncertain whither to go, or where she should again meet Lord Byron. After lingering for a short time at Bologna, under a faint expectation that the Court of Rome might yet, through some friendly mediation [41], be induced to rescind its order against her relatives, she at length gave up all hope, and joined her father and brother at Florence.

It has been already seen, from Lord Byron's letters, that he had himself become an object of strong suspicion to the Government, and it was, indeed, chiefly in their desire to rid themselves of his presence, that the steps taken against the Gamba family had originated;--the constant benevolence which he exercised towards the poor of Ravenna being likely, it was feared, to render him dangerously popular among a people unused to charity on so enlarged a scale. "One of the princ.i.p.al causes," says Madame Guiccioli, "of the exile of my relatives, was in reality the idea that Lord Byron would share the banishment of his friends. Already the Government were averse to Lord Byron's residence at Ravenna; knowing his opinions, fearing his influence, and also exaggerating the extent of his means for giving effect to them. They fancied that he provided money for the purchase of arms, &c. and that he contributed pecuniarily to the wants of the Society. The truth is, that, when called upon to exercise his beneficence, he made no enquiries as to the political and religious opinions of those who required his aid. Every unhappy and needy object had an equal share in his benevolence. The Anti-Liberals, however, insisted upon believing that he was the princ.i.p.al support of Liberalism in Romagna, and were desirous of his departure; but, not daring to exact it by any direct measure, they were in hopes of being able indirectly to force him into this step."[42]

After stating the particulars of her own hasty departure, the lady proceeds:--"Lord Byron, in the mean time, remained at Ravenna, in a town convulsed by party spirit, where he had certainly, on account of his opinions, many fanatical and perfidious enemies; and my imagination always painted him surrounded by a thousand dangers. It may be conceived, therefore, what that journey must have been to me, and what I suffered at such a distance from him. His letters would have given me comfort; but two days always elapsed between his writing and my receiving them; and this idea embittered all the solace they would otherwise have afforded me, so that my heart was torn by the most cruel fears. Yet it was necessary for his own sake that he should remain some time longer at Ravenna, in order that it might not be said that he also was banished. Besides, he had conceived a very great affection for the place itself; and was desirous, before he left it, of exhausting every means and hope of procuring the recall of my relations from banishment[43]."

[Footnote 41: Among the persons applied to by Lord Byron for their interest on this occasion was the late d.u.c.h.ess of Devonshire, whose answer, dated from Spa, I found among his papers. With the utmost readiness her Grace undertakes to write to Rome on the subject, and adds, "Believe me also, my Lord, that there is a character of justice, goodness, and benevolence, in the present Government of Rome, which, if they are convinced of the just claims of the Conte de Gamba and his son, will make them grant their request."]

[Footnote 42: "Una delle princ.i.p.ali ragioni per cui si erano esigliati i miei parenti era la speranza che Lord Byron pure lascierebbe la Romagna quando i suoi amici fossero part.i.ti. Gia da qualche tempo la permanenza di Lord Byron in Ravenna era mal gradita dal Governo conoscendosile sue opinione e temendosila sua influenza, ed essaggiandosi anche i suoi mezzi per esercitara. Si credeva che egli somministra.s.se danaro per provvedere armi, e che provvedesse ai bisogni della Societ . La verit era che nello spargere le sue beneficenze egli non s'informava delle opinioni politiche e religiose di quello che aveva bisogno del suo soccorso; ogni misero ed ogni infelice aveva un eguale diviso alia sua generosita. Ma in ogni modo gli Anti-Liberali lo credevano il princ.i.p.ale sostegno del Liberalismo della Romagna, e desideravano la sua partenza; ma non osando provocarla in nessun modo diretto speravano di ottenerla indirettamente."]

[Footnote 43: "Lord Byron restava frattanto a Ravenna in un paese sconvolso dai part.i.ti, e dove aveva certamente dei nemici di opinioni fanatici e perfidi, e la mia immagin.a.z.ione me lo dipingeva circondato sempre da mille pericoli. Si pu dunque pensare cosa dovesse essere qual viaggio per me e cosa io dovessi soffrire nella sua lontananza. Le sue lettere avrebbero potuto essermi di conforto; ma quando io le riceveva era gia trascorso lo spazio di due giorni dal momenta in cui furono scritte, e questo pensiero distruggeva tutto il bene che esse potevano farmi, e la mia anima era lacerata dai piu crudeli timori. Frattanto era necessario per la di lui convenienza che egli resta.s.se ancora qualche tempo in Ravenna affinche non avesse a dirsi che egli pure ne era esigliato; ed oltreci egli si era sominamente affezionato a quel soggiorno e voleva innanzi di partire vedere esausiti tutti i tentativi e tutte le speranze del ritorno dei miei parenti."]

LETTER 440. TO MR. HOPPNER.

"Ravenna, July 23. 1821.