It was about the time (1819) when the foregoing letter was written, and
when, like the first return of reason after intoxication, a full
consciousness of some of the evils of his late libertine course of life
had broken upon him, that an attachment differing altogether, both in
duration and devotion, from any of those that, since the dream of his
boyhood, had inspired him, gained an influence over his mind which lasted
through his few remaining years; and, undeniably wrong and immoral (even
allowing for the Italian estimate of such frailties) as was the nature of
the connexion to which this attachment led, we can hardly perhaps,--taking
into account the far worse wrong from which it rescued and preserved
him,--consider it otherwise than an event fortunate both for his
reputation and happiness.
The fair object of this last, and (with one signal exception) only _real_
love of his whole life, was a young Romagnese lady, the daughter of Count
Gamba, of Ravenna, and married, but a short time before Lord Byron first
met with her, to an old and wealthy widower, of the same city, Count
Guiccioli. Her husband had in early life been the friend of Alfieri, and
had distinguished himself by his zeal in promoting the establishment of a
National Theatre, in which the talents of Alfieri and his own wealth were
to be combined. Notwithstanding his age, and a character, as it appears,
by no means reputable, his great opulence rendered him an object of
ambition among the mothers of Ravenna, who, according to the too frequent
maternal practice, were seen vying with each other in attracting so rich a
purchaser for their daughters, and the young Teresa Gamba, then only
eighteen, and just emancipated from a convent, was the selected victim.
The first time Lord Byron had ever seen this lady was in the autumn of
1818, when she made her appearance, soon after her marriage, at the house
of the Countess Albrizzi, in all the gaiety of bridal array, and the first
delight of exchanging a convent for the world. At this time, however, no
acquaintance ensued between them;--it was not till the spring of the
present year that, at an evening party of Madame Benzoni's, they were
introduced to each other. The love that sprung out of this meeting was
instantaneous and mutual,--though with the usual disproportion of
sacrifice between the parties; such an event being, to the man, but one of
the many scenes of life, while, with woman, it generally constitutes the
whole drama. The young Italian found herself suddenly inspired with a
passion, of which, till that moment, her mind could not have formed the
least idea;--she had thought of love but as an amusement, and now became
its slave. If at the outset, too, less slow to be won than an Englishwoman,
no sooner did she begin to understand the full despotism of the passion
than her heart shrunk from it as something terrible, and she would have
escaped, but that the chain was already around her.
No words, however, can describe so simply and feelingly as her own, the
strong impression which their first meeting left upon her mind:--
"I became acquainted," says Madame Guiccioli, "with Lord Byron in the
April of 1819:--he was introduced to me at Venice, by the Countess Benzoni,
at one of that lady's parties. This introduction, which had so much
influence over the lives of us both, took place contrary to our wishes,
and had been permitted by us only from courtesy. For myself, more fatigued
than usual that evening on account of the late hours they keep at Venice,
I went with great repugnance to this party, and purely in obedience to
Count Guiccioli. Lord Byron, too, who was averse to forming new
acquaintances,--alleging that he had entirely renounced all attachments,
and was unwilling any more to expose himself to their consequences,--on
being requested by the Countess Benzoni to allow himself to be presented
to me, refused, and, at last, only assented from a desire to oblige her.
"His noble and exquisitely beautiful countenance, the tone of his voice,
his manners, the thousand enchantments that surrounded him, rendered him
so different and so superior a being to any whom I had hitherto seen, that
it was impossible he should not have left the most profound impression
upon me. From that evening, during the whole of my subsequent stay at
Venice, we met every day."
* * * * *
About the middle of April, Madame Guiccioli had been obliged to quit
Venice with her husband. Having several houses on the road from Venice to
Ravenna, it was his habit to stop at these mansions, one after the other,
in his journeys between the two cities; and from all these places the
enamoured young Countess now wrote to her lover, expressing, in the most
passionate and pathetic terms, her despair at leaving him. So utterly,
indeed, did this feeling overpower her, that three times, in the course of
her first day's journey, she was seized with fainting-fits. In one of her
letters, which I saw when at Venice, dated, if I recollect right, from "Cà
Zen, Cavanella di Po," she tells him that the solitude of this place,
which she had before found irksome, was, now that one sole idea occupied
her mind, become dear and welcome to her, and promises that, as soon as
she arrives at Ravenna, "she will, according to his wish, avoid all
general society, and devote herself to reading, music, domestic
occupations, riding on horseback,--every thing, in short, that she knew he
would most like." What a change for a young and simple girl, who, but a
few weeks before, had thought only of society and the world, but who now
saw no other happiness but in the hope of becoming worthy, by seclusion
and self-instruction, of the illustrious object of her love!
On leaving this place, she was attacked with a dangerous illness on the
road, and arrived half dead at Ravenna; nor was it found possible to
revive or comfort her till an assurance was received from Lord Byron,
expressed with all the fervour of real passion, that, in the course of the
ensuing month, he would pay her a visit. Symptoms of consumption, brought
on by her state of mind, had already shown themselves; and, in addition to
the pain which this separation had caused her, she was also suffering much
grief from the loss of her mother, who, at this time, died in giving birth
to her twentieth child. Towards the latter end of May she wrote to
acquaint Lord Byron that, having prepared all her relatives and friends to
expect him, he might now, she thought, venture to make his appearance at
Ravenna. Though, on the lady's account, hesitating as to the prudence of
such a step, he, in obedience to her wishes, on the 2nd of June, set out
from La Mira (at which place he had again taken a villa for the summer),
and proceeded towards Romagna.
While he was lingering irresolute at Bologna, the Countess Guiccioli had
been attacked with an intermittent fever, the violence of which combining
with the absence of a confidential person to whom she had been in the
habit of intrusting her letters, prevented her from communicating with him.
At length, anxious to spare him the disappointment of finding her so ill
on his arrival, she had begun a letter, requesting that he would remain at
Bologna till the visit to which she looked forward should bring her there
also; and was in the act of writing, when a friend came in to announce the
arrival of an English lord in Ravenna. She could not doubt for an instant
that it was her noble lover; and he had, in fact, notwithstanding his
declaration to Mr. Hoppner that it was his intention to return to Venice
immediately, wholly altered this resolution before the letter announcing
it was despatched,--the following words being written on the outside
cover:--"I am just setting off for Ravenna, June 8, 1819.--I changed my
mind this morning, and decided to go on."
The reader, however, shall have Madame Guiccioli's own account of these
events, which, fortunately for the interest of my narration, I am enabled
to communicate:--
On my departure from Venice, he had promised to come and see me at Ravenna.
Dante's tomb, the classical pine wood, the relics of antiquity which are
to be found in that place, afforded a sufficient pretext for me to invite
him to come, and for him to accept my invitation. He came, in fact, in the
month of June, arriving at Ravenna on the day of the festival of the
Corpus Domini; while, I attacked by a consumptive complaint, which had its
origin from the moment of my quitting Venice, appeared on the point of
death. The arrival of a distinguished foreigner at Ravenna, a town so
remote from the routes ordinarily followed by travellers, was an event
which gave rise to a good deal of conversation. His motives for such a
visit became the subject of discussion, and these he himself afterwards
involuntarily divulged; for having made some inquiries with a view to
paying me a visit, and being told that it was unlikely that he would ever
see me again, as I was at the point of death, he replied, if such were the
case, he hoped that he should die also; which circumstance, being repeated
revealed the object of his journey. Count Guiccioli, having been
acquainted with Lord Byron at Venice, went to visit him now, and in the
hope that his presence might amuse, and be of some use to me in the state
in which I then found myself, invited him to call upon me. He came the day
following. It is impossible to describe the anxiety he showed,--the
delicate attentions that he paid me. For a long time he had perpetually
medical books in his hands; and not trusting my physicians, he obtained
permission from Count Guiccioli to send for a very clever physician, a
friend of his, in whom he placed great confidence. The attentions of the
Professor Aglietti (for so this celebrated Italian was called), together
with tranquillity, and the inexpressible happiness which I experienced in
Lord Byron's society, had so good an effect on my health, that only two
months afterwards I was able to accompany my husband in a tour he was
obliged to make to visit his various estates.
* * * * *
In the separation that had now taken place (1820) between Count Guiccioli
and his wife, it was one of the conditions that the lady should, in future,
reside under the paternal roof:--in consequence of which, Madame Guiccioli,
on the 16th of July, left Ravenna and retired to a villa belonging to
Count Gamba, about fifteen miles distant from that city. Here Lord Byron
occasionally visited her--about once or twice, perhaps, in the
month--passing the rest of his time in perfect solitude. To a mind like
his, whose world was within itself, such a mode of life could have been
neither new nor unwelcome; but to the woman, young and admired, whose
acquaintance with the world and its pleasures had but just begun, this
change was, it must be confessed, most sudden and trying. Count Guiccioli
was rich, and, as a young wife, she had gained absolute power over him.
She was proud, and his station placed her among the highest in Ravenna.
They had talked of travelling to Naples, Florence, Paris,--and every
luxury, in short, that wealth could command was at her disposal.
All this she now voluntarily and determinedly sacrificed for Byron. Her
splendid home abandoned--her relations all openly at war with her--her
kind father but tolerating, from fondness, what he could not approve--she
was now, upon a pittance of 200_l_. a year, living apart from the world,
her sole occupation the task of educating herself for her illustrious
lover, and her sole reward the few brief glimpses of him which their now
restricted intercourse allowed. Of the man who could inspire and keep
alive so devoted a feeling, it may be pronounced with confidence that he
could _not_ have been such as, in the freaks of his own wayward humour, he
represented himself; while, on the lady's side, the whole history of her
attachment goes to prove how completely an Italian woman, whether by
nature or from her social position, is led to invert the usual course of
such frailties among ourselves, and, weak in resisting the first impulses
of passion, to reserve the whole strength of her character for a display
of constancy and devotedness afterwards.
* * * * *