least apology. He had the daily companionship of Shelley Byron was always at his best with Shelley -and the rest of that congenial company which included Edward and Jane Williams, Medwin, Trelawney, Taafe, and, of course, the Gambas. West, the American artist who painted his portrait at that time, says, "Upon the whole, I left him with an impression that he possessed an excellent heart which had been misconstrued on all hands from little else than a reckless levity of manners which he took a whimsical pride in opposing to those of other people.” Byron's household continued to be carefully watched at Pisa, as it had been at Ravenna, by the agents of the Austrian government. An Italian version of “The Prophecy of Dante" had appeared, and was declared "not written in the spirit of our Government or any Italian Government. Lord Byron makes Dante his spokesman and the prophet of democratic independence, as if this were the salvation of Italy," etc., etc. Morcover, a street riot, beginning between the servants of the Byron household and a Pisan sergeant-major, ended by involving both servants and masters in a trial at court which dragged on for several weeks. The government being anxious to be rid of the whole party took advantage of this and a subsequent offence against local laws at the Leghorn villa to warn the Gambas that unless they left the country within three days formal sentence of banishment would be passed upon them. A respite of a few days was granted, however, but in July, 1822, they took passports for Genoa; thither Byron followed them in the month of September. The new home was the Villa Saluzzo at Albaro, about two miles from Genoa. Here Byron continued "Don Juan," with cantos XII-XVI, and wrote also another satire, "The Age of Bronze," an idyllic tale of the South Seas, and "The Island." Here also he was visited by Captain Blaquière sent by a London Committee to urge him to take command of an expedition to Greece to aid in the war for Greek independence. Byron could not long resist an appeal so flattering as well as so congenial, and after but little hesitation consented, sailing July 14, 1823. With the remaining nine months of his life, until his death on the 19th of April, 1824, this volume is not concerned. Politics and war now usurped the place of poetry; his correspondence henceforth relates almost exclusively to procuring from England every penny of his income for the cause he had at heart; his whole energy is given to mitigating the necessary horrors of war, and to introducing humanity in the treatment of prisoners. 66 Nothing in his life became him like the leaving of it"; hard men, comparative strangers, wept over his death, and the Greek Governor-General confessed his own inadequacy to his task when left without his chief counsellor. A monument in Athens commemorates Byron's memory; but neither the Greek wish -that he might be buried in the temple of Theseus nor his own to be buried in Italian soil was granted, and the body was taken to England in the expectation that it would be placed in Westminster Abbey. This being denied by the Dean of the Abbey, Byron was laid to rest among his ancestors in the village church of Hucknall Torkard, near Nottingham. A mural tablet, placed by his half-sister, is inscribed to his memory. There is no epitaph; but he who seeks this spot will recall there Shelley's lines from "Adonais ": Pilgrim of Eternity, whose fame Over his living head like Heaven was bent An early but enduring monument. FROM "DETACHED THOUGHTS" 1. Oh! talk not to me of a name great in story; 2. What are garlands and crowns to the brow that is wrinkled? "T is but as a dead flower with May-dew besprinkled : Then away with all such from the head that is hoary, What care I for the wreaths that can only give Glory? 3. Oh! Fame! if I e'er took delight in thy praises, 4. There chiefly I sought thee, there only I found thee; I composed these stanzas (except the fourth, added now) a few days ago, on the road from Florence to Pisa. PISA, Nov. 6th, 1821. TO JOHN MURRAY PISA, December 4, 1821. I have got here into a famous old feudal palazzo on the Arno, large enough for a garrison, with dungeons below and cells in the walls, and so full of Ghosts, that the learned Fletcher (my valet) has begged leave to change his room, and then refused to occupy his new room, because there were more ghosts there than in the other. It is quite true that there are most extraordinary noises (as in all old buildings), which have terrified the servants so as to incommode me extremely. There is one place where people were evidently walled up; for there is but one possible passage, broken through the wall, and then meant to be closed again upon the inmate. The house belonged to the Lanfranchi family (the same mentioned by Ugolino in his dream, as his persecutor with Sismondi), and has had a fierce owner or two in its time. The staircase, etc., is said to have been built by Michel Agnolo (sic). It is not yet cold enough for a fire. What a climate! I am, however, bothered about these spectres (as they say the last occupants were, too), of whom I have as yet seen nothing, nor, indeed, heard (myself); but all the other ears have been regaled by all kinds of supernatural sounds. The first night I thought I heard an odd noise, but it has not been repeated. I have now been here more than a month. Yours, BYRON. TO SIR WALTER SCOTT PISA, January 12, 1822. I am glad you accepted the inscription. I meant to have inscribed The Foscarini to you instead; but, first, I heard that Cain was thought the least bad of the two as a composition; and, 2dly, I have abused Southey like a pickpocket, in a note to The Foscarini, and I recollected that he is a friend of yours (though not of mine), and that it would not be the handsome thing to dedicate to one friend anything containing such matters about another. However, I'll work the Laureate before I have done with 1 The dedication of "Cain." |
