The author gratefully acknowledges the scholarship
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
demanded by her dissertation committee. As chairman,
Dr. Kenneth W. Davis patiently guided through labyrinthine
details and generously shared his own expertise as he encour
aged my attempt to voice a new concept and to assert my own
authority as a scholar-in-the-making. Dr. Thomas Langford
carefully reviewed drafts and redrafts, perceptively analyz
ing and tendering valuable observations. Dr. Donald Rude
cheerfully encouraged and tendered suggestions for appropri
ate scholarly realization. Both Dr. Richard Crider and
Dr. Mike Schoenecke faithfully labored over the tedium of
proofreading this dissertation.
I dedicate this literary work to my husband of many
years, Blake, who lovingly supported and encouraged this
effort.
11
TABLE OF CONTENTS
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 11
CHAPTER
INTRODUCTION 1
II. NINETEENTH CENTURY CRITICS 11
III TWENTIETH CENTURY CRITICS 48
IV, POETS AND PRELATES 90
RUINS AND RELICS 121
VI CONCLUSION 158
WORKS CITED 167
111
ABSTRACT
Canto IV of Childe Harold' s PiIgrimage resulted from a
collaborative effort of Lord Byron and John Cam Hobhouse wher
Hobhouse resolved to duplicate their joint project for Canto
I and II. He spent a year and half in Italy occupied with
viewing ruins, monuments, and statues; tediously researching
historical and ecclesiastical sources in private and Vatican
libraries; and compiling explanatory materials on Italian
history, art and archaeology for Canto IV. Although Byron
denied that he would resume the poem, Hobhouse influenced hin
to write the longest canto of the series, and to include spe
cific subject matter relative to his own researched notes.
This interdependent subject matter appeared in the canto, in
the attached historical notes, and in a separate text accom
panying the poem.
This dissertation used the 1818 editions of both Canto
IV and Hi stori cal Illustrati ons to elucidate the canto
by analytically comparing the texts. Chapter one sum
marily identifies the relationship between the two writers
and details the purpose of illuminating elusive poetic refer
ences and allusions through comparative analysis. The seconc
and third chapters summarize reviews by nineteenth and twen
tieth century critics. A comprehensive survey of critical
ma terial revealed three facts: the lack of recognition for
Hobhouse's influence on the poem; a negation of the benefits
from examining the canto in company with the text meant to
1 V
elucidate its poetic allusions or literary and historical
figures; and a general illiteracy about the history of the
composition of Canto IV. Chapters four and five summarily
recount Hobhouse's material contribution to understanding
Byron's expressions. Chapter six assesses the lack of crit
ical recognition for Hobhouse's influence on the subject
matter and format of the canto, and recounts some benefits of
Historical Illustrations to the modern reader of Canto IV.
While critics pondered over classical poetics and cata
logued Byron's introspective meditations, or insisted that
the meaning derives from the form of a literary work, they
missed the obvious explanation for Canto IV being primarily a
historical travelogue correlated with its own explanatory
notes and dissertations. A study of the history of its com
position suggests a deeper connotation behind numerous sur
face ideas of the poem, and a profound significance behind
the dedicatory preface.
CHAPTER I
INTRODUCTION
Occasionally a master work of art speaks so eloquently
to the human condition that one does not have to comprehend
its full consequence to dote on the beauty and meditate on
its essence. This process of reader-identification with lit
erary creations applied particularly to Lord Byron's poetic
masterpieces. Even though Chi 1 dQ H rp i;!' ? Pi Igri mage traced
continental travels over a nine year period, one might skim
any canto for majestic descriptions or profound meditations.
And the reader would never realize what a windfall he neg
lected by not utilizing the travelogues penned to accompany
three of the four cantos. These explanatory texts inter
preted poetic allusions, and identified strange people and
places for readers unfamiliar with continental culture
and history.
For the first two cantos, John Cam Hobhouse wrote a
travelogue detailing archaeological, historical and cultural
aspects of their tour as he and Byron traveled through
Portugal, Spain, Greece and Albania. His Journe.v Through
Albania and Other Provinces sJi Turkey UL EurOPg^ aJld Asift
Duri ng the Years 1809 and 1810 coincided with the subject
ma tter of Canto I and II and capitalized on both the English
reading public's infatuation with travelogues at that time
and the exotic tour that the pair of young Englishmen had
completed.
The outstanding literary success of their earlier
venture prompted Hobhouse' s vision of a canto-travelogue
combination detailing the jaunt through Italy that he and
Byron had long anticipated. Both Canto IV with its appended
notes and Hi stori cal Illustrati ons of the Fourth Canto of
ChiIde Harold grew out of their travels in Italy in 1816-
1817, and were published in 1818. In fact, Byron considered
Hobhouse's historical material so essential to interpreting
Canto IV that he threatened to refuse to publish the poem if
Hobhouse's guide was not also published. By letter, he
vetoed the publisher's separation of notes and poetry: "the
text shall not be published without the Notes--& if this is
contemplated--It shan't be published at all--" (Marchand L&J
6.14). Murray published part of the voluminous notes with
the canto, but retained the bulk of them for a separate
volume, Histori cal Illustrati ons.
However, in numerous letters (the last one to John
Murray dated June 17, 1817) Byron had repeatedly denied that
he would resume Childe Harold' s PiIgrimage "or any other"
poem (Marchand 5.157). One could explain Byron's reluctance
to revert to the pilgrim guise by considering his life status
in 1816. He sought a new identity as he adjusted to agoniz
ing personal problems that entailed a self-imposed exile.
Also during the year, he had produced a tremendous amount of
poetry. He wrote Canto III of "Childe Harold," finished
the Turkish tales, worked on "Beppo" and "Manfred; he was
translating an Armenian grammar and writing a novel about
Don Julian that became his poetic satire "Don Juan."
However, this dissertation points to one aspect of the
poet's composition of Canto IV that no critic has yet con
sidered. After comparing the canto with Hi stori cal Illus-
trations, and paralleling Hobhouse' s journal with Byron's
letters, I determined that without Hobhouse's persistent
urging, and his articulate command of subject matter, Byron
probably would never have written Canto IV, at least not as
a historical travelogue. What emerged was his longest canto
supported by two companion pieces. Notes appended to the
canto explained numerous places, monuments and events about
which readers in 1818 knew little, and added appreciably to
an understanding of the poem. But the separate text. Hi sto
ri cal Illustrati ons of the Fourth Canto of ChiIde Harold:
Containi ng Pi ssertati ons on the Rui ns of Rome: and an Essav
on Italian Li terature. told something about the composition
of the poetry. Its treatises (on art, architecture and
history) correlated with poetic references, interpreted vague
allusions and increased a reader's grasp of various aspects
of Italian culture. Also, Hobhouse edited the accompanying
m aterial to avoid repetition in the notes and Illustrations
For the curious scholar, Hobhouse provided an account of the
exhaustive research behind the compilation of the explanatory
material. While he specifically stated that he did not
intend to interpret or explain Byron's poetry, he obviously
felt that poetry should instruct, and therefore edited both
the notes and Illustrati ons as enrichment for the canto. His
natural antiquarian interest and knowledge of Italian history
led him to produce scholarly and authoritative discourses
that added detail and background for readers interested in
classical literature, Italian history, or relics discovered
in nineteenth-century excavations of Rome and its surrounding
terri tory.
Through Hobhouse' s journal, one might easily recreate
the calendar of travels as he and Byron explored the Bernese
Alps in Switzerland and then journeyed to Italy in the autumn
of 1816. Whereas most nineteenth century English tourists
visited Naples and Florence, Byron and Hobhouse traveled to
Milan and Venice. A partial gap occurred in the report
(because of missing diaries) when Hobhouse went to Rome
without Byron. After he returned to Venice, he edited both
notes and Illustrati ons, and probably contributed to the text
of Canto IV. For the purpose of this dissertation, a summary
account of their travels will demonstrate the time frame in
relation to the poetic composition and establish the basis
for the influential role Hobhouse played in both subject
m atter and format of the poem.
As the sightseer, Hobhouse led Byron through museums and
ca thedrals, art galleries and private libraries, all the
while amassing notes about everything from contemporary lit
erary figures and ancient marble statues to the antiquarian
subjects included in Illustrati ons. The pair spent several
weeks in Milan visiting libraries and art galleries, attend
ing the opera, and meeting some of Italy's most impressive
literary and historical figures. In the social whirl of din
ner parties, conversation among the intelligentia turned on
politics--Napoleon and his eighteenth century invasion of
Italy, Castlereagh and the current repressive regime in
England, personal liberty and political freedom--literature
and the literati.
In November, the pair reached Venice and Byron became
infatuated with the city as well as its inhabitants. He
refused to leave, so in December Hobhouse set off for Rome
without him. In Bologna Hobhouse met Cardinal Mezzofanti, an
Oriental scholar and linguist, who conducted the Englishman
through the Vatican library with its 150,000 books and 40,000
manuscripts, and gave him samples of the Lord's Prayer that
he had translated into 157 languages. Needless to say, Hob
house was indelibly moved by this scholarly achievement. In
Florence he met the poet Conte Vittorio Alfieri's widowed
mistress, who was more admired "by that bastard title" than
as "the wife of a [living] Prince" ( Recollecti ons 2.69).
When alive, Alfieri had poetically championed the people's
desire for liberty after the Italian states' support of the
French Revolution led to Napoleon's repressive invasion.
Of course with his mania for trivia, Hobhouse recorded
the historical aspects of his journey. Once he reached Rome
(before Christmas, 1816), he spent about six months viewing
ruins and monuments as he collected archival notes from
reputable historical and ecclesiastical scholars in both
private and Vatican libraries. Byron arrived for a whirlwind
tour of the city in April, 1817, and stayed three weeks
before he returned to Venice. Hobhouse went back to Venice
in July, and from July until January 8, 1818, he remained
with Byron. During the entire timespan he patiently con
tinued to amass notes, visit art galleries and pore over
historical texts in the best ducal and ecclesiastical
libraries, doggedly compiling historical notes and Illus
trati ons pertaining to the subjects being poetically depicted
in Canto IV.
Although Byron asserted on June 17, 1817 that he had no
intention of writing a line of poetry about Rome, or of "re
commencing that poem" (Marchand L&J 5. 240), within two weeks
of Hobhouse's return to Venice, he had more than thirty stan
zas "roughened off" into a fourth canto (5. 244). By the end
of July, he had "completed" the canto with 126 stanzas. But,
the poem continued to grow--by November it had 167 stanzas.
When Hobhouse left Venice in January, 1818, with the final
draft of the poem that Byron never intended to write, it
contained 184 stanzas.
Hobhouse spent much of his time in Milan, Venice and
Rome absorbed in research, and compiled volumes of historical
notes and treatises before Byron began composing poetry to
correspond. When it became obvious that the canto had to be
expanded to cover the notes, Hobhouse dictated a number of
subjects for coverage, and observed Byron's composition and
revision as the poet added stanzas related to important top
ics of historical significance or literary interest. Several
stanzas echoed Hobhouse's journal entries of the pair "philo
sophizing on ill- and good-luck" ( Recollecti ons 2. 22) or
debating the political situation in Europe including England.
And of course Byron did what writers have done from the
beginning of time if they did not feel creatively inspired--
he copied ideas from others, including Hobhouse. During this
compilation process, Hobhouse carefully collated both the
notes and 111 ustrati ons with the canto to provide full
coverage, yet refrain from repetition.
A secondary facet of examining the compositional history
of Canto IV revealed a rather startling sidelight about
Byron's creative genius--viz. a Wordsworthian quality and
influence. Because Byron wrote the canto after his return to
Venice instead of while he viewed the majestic scenery and
magnificent Roman ruins, he exemplified Wordsworth's concept
of poetry as emotions recollected in tranquillity. And he
seemed to adopt Wordsworth's technique of using journal
entries to stimulate past emotions and to recreate them.
Hobhouse also kept a diary and several stanzas reiterate
his entries, but a number of stanzas echoed splendid scenic
descriptions in Byron's journal kept for Augusta Leigh as he
8
and Hobhouse traversed Switzerland before going to Italy. In
one entry, Byron marveled at a glacial waterfall forming a
torrent "nine hundred feet" high which curved over the rocks
like the tail of a white horse streaming in the wind--such as it might be conceived would be that of the pale horse on which Death is mounted in the Apocalypse. --It is neither mist nor water but a something between both [with] a wave--a curve--. . . wonderful--& indescribable. (Marchand 5. 101)
He depicted a cloud "curling up perpendicular precipices
like the foam of the Ocean of Hell during a Springtide--it
was white & sulphury--and immeasurably deep in appearance"
(5.102), or "clouds foaming up from the valleys below us--
like the spray of the ocean of hell" (5.106). Poetically, he
sharply detailed the "matchless" Velino cataract cleaving
"the wave-worn precipice" from its "headlong height" in a
"hell of waters!" howling and hissing "in endless torture"
(Ixix), and "charming the eye with dread" (Ixxi).
This dissertation has two purposes relative to the col
laborative efforts of Byron and Hobhouse producing a poetic
masterpiece accompanied by explanatory notes and treatises on
art, architecture and history. First, this document aims to
demonstrate the influential role of Hobhouse in both the poe
tic subject matter and structural format of the poem. While
critics generally have assumed Canto IV to be Byron's own
personal observations of the Italian scene and his responses
to it, that assumption is mostly untrue. Byron did express
the same narcissistic affectation of melancholy and
self-concern. However, Hobhouse effectively coerced Byron
into writing the poem and prescribed numerous subjects for
i nclusi on.
A second purpose for this dissertation is to assess
critically Hobhouse' s own significant contribution to an
intelligent interpretation of Canto IV through a comparative
elucidation of the canto by using his tome Hi stori cal Illus
trati ons. While the importance of the historical notes
originally appended to the poem should not be minimized, the
second volume added much pertinent information generally not
available to an inquiring reader. The notes accompanying
Canto IV remained generally available without undue problems,
but Illustrati ons became virtually unattainable, except
in the musty corners of a few rare book rooms, out of reach
of even scholarly readers who would examine Canto IV in the
light of its illuminating treatises. Whereas Journev Through
Albania attained record sales for a travelogue, the limited
sale of Historical ^llustrati ons disappointed both Byron and
Hobhouse.
Although critics have ignored the contextual signifi
cance of Hobhouse's tome, this dissertation will demonstrate
the deliberate parallel subject matter of Canto IV and Illus
trations. The first chapter summarily identifies the rela
tionship between the two writers and details the purpose of
illuminating elusive poetic references and allusions. The
second chapter summarizes contemporary reviews of Canto IV
10
while the third covers twentieth-century critical reactions.
Chapters four and five form the body of this text as they re
late the copious minutiae of Hi stori cal Illustrati ons to an
interpretation of Canto IV, highlighting the contributions of
Illustrations. Chapter six assesses the lack of critical
recognition for Hobhouse*s reciprocal part in the canto and
the benefits of Illustrati ons to the modern reader of the
poem.
This study used the 1818 editions of both Canto IV and
Illustrati ons. Because inquiring readers can generally
secure complete notes explicating the canto without undue
difficulty, this study did not include these notational
references. The canto's subject matter itself controlled the
format of this dissertation, and inclusions in Illustrationg
determined the topics considered. A number of other scholar
ly works contributed to the examination of the canto,
including Leslie Marchand* s comprehensive edition of Bvron' s
Letters and Journals and E. H. Coleridge's 1898 edition of
The Works of Lord Bvron. volume II detailing the revision of
Canto IV. Probably the most indispensable secondary text,
which is not readily available but can be attained after some
searching, is John Cam Hobhouse*s personal reminiscences
edited by his daughter in 1909 as a six volume diary and
journal entitled Recollections of.a Long Li fe.
CHAPTER II
NINETEENTH-CENTURY CRITICS
Ideally any critical response embodies an eclectic
and multidimensional approach. In actuality, every critic
echoes a cultural background predetermined by personal exper
iences that create a sensitivity to specific aspects of a
piece of literature. A comprehensive survey of critical com
ments about Canto IV of C h] i, ] j Harold* s Pi Igrimage reveals a
variety of judgments based on diversified standards of social
conduct and literary accomplishment. Nineteenth-century
critics did not concentrate on finding meaning in the poem.
Instead they blindly groped through their own personal as
sumptions to focus on one of two factors. Either they judged
Byron the person by the prevalent social gossip as they read
his poetry, or they judged his poetry by classical standards
of rhetorical analysis going back to Plato and Aristotle.
Most nineteenth-century commentators, and especially the
Romantic critics, concentrated on the organic form of a lite
rary work--how the parts mutually supported each other. But
they never ignored the association between poetic harmony and
sublime language as they affirmed the principles and aesthet
ics of rhyme, rhythm, tone, setting, imagery and imagination.
In fact, organicism stressed two specific concepts: the
poem's power to evoke feelings in the reader and the poet's
creative imagination as the shaping force and unifying vision
of the work. Also, since the Romantics were generally
11
12
fascinated with nature, the poetic passages on nature stirred
the greatest critical response (with almost universal
approval) .
When Lord Byron's first volume of juvenile verse came
out in 1807, Romantic critics began responding to his poetic
techniques with both praise and censure. As his popularity
increased, so did the number of reviewers commenting on vari
ous aspects of his work and life. By the time Byron produced
Canto IV of ChiIde Harold' s PiIgri mage, contemporary critics
had generally divided into two groups, one favorable to Byron
and the other hostile. The friendly critics saw merit in all
of his poetry and they ignored his reputation for a moody
temperament, disregarded the gossip and rumors about his
illicit affairs, and scorned the innuendoes about his private
life. They accepted him as a master poet and popular writer
who fascinated his reading public. Also, any article on
Byron guaranteed a larger sale of the journal and enticed new
readers. On the other hand, reviewers hostile to Byron har
bored prejudices against his lack of conventional moral prin
ciples and could not objectively evaluate the quality of any
literary work to which Byron's name was attached. A number
had ignored his previous poetic pieces, including the first
three cantos of ChiIde Harold, but the poet's popularity
prompted them to jump on the bandwagon when Byron published
Canto IV. This begrudging admission of the public's
13
fascination with Byronic works did not mitigate their harsh
judgment and condemnation as they maligned his artistic
abi li ty.
As contemporary critics vied to dissect Canto IV, most
commentators focused on the poetic conventions of rhythm and
rhyme, the meaning of thematic patterns, and the nature of
audience response. The critics ignored the composite of
poetic elements and narrative devices, the meaning of images
and verbal patterns, and the poetic language specifically
oriented to Byron's situation at the time he wrote Canto
IV. Instead, these reviewers interpreted literally some
rambling poetic speculations, and refused to accept at face
value the stream-of-consciousness poetry written as a per
sonal reaction to the scenery, ruins and monuments he had
viewed sometime before he wrote about them. While these
responses occurred as poetic digressions, critics dwelt on
them as the message of the poem. Contemporary critics
expected the same impassioned utterances as usual to erupt
spontaneously from the self-exiled poet, and searched dili
gently until they found them, always citing lengthy excerpts
in support of their mistaken assumptions. They failed to
consider the state of mind excited in the poet by Hobhouse' s
insisting that he record their tour, and they neglected to
research the history of composition for Canto IV. As the
pair collated the poetic travelogue with historical notes
and T1lustrati ons. Byron inserted numerous allusions that
14
even classically educated critics probably could not under
stand. Certainly they jumped to foregone conclusions in
attempting to derive objective data from the subjective
persona addressing a British audience he never expected to
see
Byron had the flair of a showman and was always aware
of his audience and sensitively alert to the response gene
rated by his poetry. To a great degree, the tremendous
appeal of his poetry came from a reading public's vicarious
perception of the honest and impassioned poetic assertions of
ordinary feelings including both misery and ecstasy. Because
these feelings could not be properly expressed through the
formal social modes open to individuals, the public responded
fervently and sympathetically as Byron voiced what they also
yearned to express. While Byron was as aware as the critics
that the English reading public found a fascination in any
thing Italian, his combination of subject matter and brilli
ant eloquence created a sympathetic bond of communion between
bard and reader. This gave Byron's poetry the profound power
lacking in the works of other contemporary writers. Assured
ly, the conversational babble in the local coffee houses at
this time probably included lengthy recitations and disputed
interpretations of Canto IV as the average nobleman displayed
his articulate discernment of poetic artistry--via whatever
critic he perused. For certain, the nineteenth-century
English reading public had ample opportunity to acquire a
15
multitude of perceptive insights before they even read the
canto because critics also reacted passionately to Byron's
poetry and raced to voice their opinions.
Canto IV was published on April 28, 1818, and four days
later the first reviews appeared. This quick reponse of
critics testified to both the incredible popularity of a
Byronic work and the illustrious recognition accorded by a
reading public to contemporary reviewers. Two literary
rivals and jealous competitors of one another and of Byron,
George Croly (one of Byron's fellow Tories) and William
Hazlitt (essayist and political champion of unpopular causes)
dashed off the first commentaries.
On Saturday, May 2, The Li terarv Gazette and Journal of
Belles Lettres. Arts, Poli ti cs, etc. published George Croly s
formal critique, which enumerated strengths of the canto in
grudging praise and weaknesses in aggressive criticism. As
one familiar with Byron's personal life, Croly injected
slanderous jibes while he purportedly concentrated on
literary matters only. Also, he tried to demonstrate both
a familiarity with ancient Italian poets and a political
awareness of momentous historical milestones of his own
times, but he missed Byron's notice of Princess Charlotte's
death in England.
Eager to demonstrate his own infallible expertise and
authoritative astuteness, Croly reacted to the values and
implications of Byron's words and allusions. He denounced
16
the sentimentality in the dedicatory preface and mocked the
flattery and vanity in the dedication. If he had actually
read this part, he would have recognized that Hobhouse was
more than a traveling companion on this tour. Croly attacked
Byron's entering Italian politics as a loss of patriotism
ill-becoming an Englishman. Then he scolded Byron for daring
to compare the fall of Venice with Britain's part in estab
lishing the Holy Alliance.
After dispensing with his censorious overall impres
sions, Croly shredded the canto stanza by stanza. He copied,
but did not prove his expertise by translating, Byron's "well
chosen" (273) epigraph from the Italian poet Ariosto. As he
attempted to demonstrate his personal acuity, Croly traced
the poet's itinerary by cataloging famed Italian literary
figures mentioned by Byron. With cool Irish enmity, he
castigated the poet for the ludicrous and facetious
address to Venice. Strangely enough, other contemporary
critics regarded that passage as one of the most beautiful
ever penned by an Englishman. In a chilling tone of animo
sity, Croly cited Byron's impassioned meditations on melan
choly as run-on stanzas of poetic drivel (viii-x and xxii-
XXV). As a truly Romantic nature lover himself, Croly be
grudged a word of praise for Byron's finely structured
description of an Italian evening ( xxvi-xxviii).
Croly s one and only almost unqualified approval con
cerned the poetic address to Rome (Ixxviii-Ixxxi) and Roman
17
heroes (Ixxxix-xcii), which was not Byron's idea at all. As
Byron's letters indicated, he found Rome "delightful" and
"finer than Greece," but he remained apathetic about "poring
over its churches & antiquities" (Marchand 5. 231) and recom
mended that "as for the Coliseum, Pantheon, St. Peter's, the
Vatican, Palatine, &c. &c.--vide Guide-book" (5. 224). The
poet also informed John Murray that he had been in Rome too
short a time to consider writing about it (5. 240). Thus,
Croly miscued (as usual) in another statement because he
wrongly assumed that Byron's response was genuinely the
poet's own thought.
Croly concluded his tediously hostile review by quoting
the last two stanzas (clxxxv-clxxxvi) . At this point, one
could dare hope that he recognized more than a poetic truth
in "My task is done--my song hath ceased--my theme/ Hath died
into an echo . . . and what is writ is writ. "
Equally anxious to prove his literary prowess to one and
all along with his sophisticated skills as a critical con
noisseur, William Hazlitt also published a critique on May 2,
1818 (the same day that Croly s critique appeared). He
began with an epigraph from Shakespeare and a quotation from
Wordsworth before belittling the fourth canto without
mentioning a single passage covered by Croly. Hazlitt
perceived the poem as a disturbed, confused, tormented
and disjointed work that portrayed the Childe as a
pampered, arrogant, ill-humored, complaining character
18
who loved misery and looked down his nose at his admiring
public. Continuing the unflattering assessment, he
accused Byron of creating a hero who worshipped his own
egotism. Hazlitt ridiculed the poetic vow in stanzas cxxxv-
cxxvii to avenge himself (on his wife) by forgiving her for
the hurt he endured because of her. [Byron had expressed
this forgiveness in several letters before he began writing
the canto. J He censored Byron's opinionated judgments,
extravagant expressions, perverse style, capricious versi
fication, run-on stanzas, peculiar metaphors, uncouth rhymes,
and repetitious gloom. Furthermore, he took offense at both
Byron's criticism of France and condemnation of his
( Hazlitt* s) own personal hero Napoleon. These were the
topics of the day, and Hobhouse recorded long conversations
about them with various intelligentia in both Switzerland
and Italy. In spite of a general disapproval for Canto IV,
Hazlitt noted some outstanding passages on the basis of how
they affected him. First, the section on Venice (i-iii) was
fair poetry; the passage on Petrarch*s tomb (xxx-xxxiii) and
the poetic eulogy to Tasso (xxxv-xxxviii) had great force.
Other passages that received a reluctant approval included
the imagined last moments of the dying gladiator (cxl-cxli)
and the apostrophe to the ocean (clxxxv-clxxxvi).
Not to be outdone by Croly and Hazlitt, the Li terarv
Journal dated Sunday, May 3 was deliberately distributed on
Saturday, May 2, 1818, with its own review penned by an
19
unidentified writer. This anonymous critic briefly described
Byron's poetic life before he bemoaned the poet's failure to
fulfill his early promise as a creative genius. Even today
twentieth-century American readers of this review would sense
possible hypocrisy behind this veneer of regret. The
critic then followed the same pattern that others used of
balancing antitheses, bitterly attacking Byron before he
accorded a word of commendation for the creation of some
beautiful poetry. First, he scornfully deplored the gloomy
intrusions of blighted passion that intertwined personal
feelings and descriptive scenes. According to the reviewer,
the poet's personal confessions disrupted the beauty of
exquisite description and striking allusions (an oblique
admission by an unnamed critic that a master poet had
accomplished his goal). The critic continued by ineptly,
and quite unintentionally, revealing his ignorance of when
and where Byron wrote the canto--he imputed an innate vigor
to the poem as a result of its being written among the scenes
it depicted. In continuing a general critical denunciation,
he reprimanded Byron for writing a dull canto devoid of
incident and lacking spirit and originality. Lest there be
some misunderstanding of his own emotional perceptions, the
anonymous critic charged the poet with using absurd language
to voice the same miserable disaffection associated with
earlier cantos. Surely anyone familiar with Byron's personal
anguish at this time would understand his preoccupation with
20
a sense of hopeless despair. Although the unnamed censor
did not compete with the eloquent denunciations of Hazlitt
or the astute observations of Croly, he criticized the
preface as Croly did and commended the opening passage as
Hazlitt did. He also parroted Croly in denouncing the
meditative passage on existence and suffering (xxi-xxiii).
Then, in a contradictory mode, the critic commended the
elegant beauty in the nature passages (the sunset scene
xxvii-xxix and the waterfall at Terni Ixix-lxxii).
The critic inadvertently complimented Hobhouse when he
praised the stanzas on Rome since they most conspicuously un
veiled the tremendous influence of Hobhouse on the finished
canto. Although the anonymous reviewer never acknowledged
His tori cal 111 ust rati ons. he digressed from other critics
when he applauded Hobhouse' s accompanying note for the first
lines (explicating the historical significance in the Bridge
of Sighs). Also, the reviewer added several new notes to the
critiques of Canto IV. First, he conceded Byron's candid and
sincere sorrow in Princess Charlotte's death (clxvii-clxxii).
Both Croly and Hazlitt inauspiciously failed to appreciate the
poetic acknowledgement of that particular contemporary event,
which Hobhouse described in a diary entry for November 23,
1817. He and Byron learned of her death (two weeks before as
she birthed a stillborn son) while on their daily ride along
the beach. Hobhouse recorded how deeply touched both were.
and how they speculated about the meaning of the event
21
The anonymous critic surpassed Croly and Hazlitt in
admiring other poetic passages, particularly the one that
questioned the identity of a lady entombed in Rome (c-ciii).
Most definitely he commended Hobhouse in this since Byron
felt only detachment and indifference in "bothering over its
(Rome's! marvels" (Marchand 5. 233).
Finally, the critic proved his literary perspicacity
when he recognized Felicaja's sonnet that Byron had plagia
rized (stanza xlii). Not even Croly observed that.
During the month of May, 1818, several other literary
journals also carried critiques on Canto IV. In fact as if
proving the magic in a name (Byron's), the Catholi c Gentle
man* s Magazi ne ran a two-part notice that extended into June.
After all, how could any contemporary journal better guaran
tee a continuing readership than by serializing a critique
on the poetic hero of a nation? Unfortunately, another writ
er who defied identification continued the series of hostile
reviews begun by Croly and Hazlitt. This anonymous reviewer
denounced Byron for wallowing in grief and pursuing despair
in his poetic quest for melancholy. Also in accord with
other critics, he reveled that finally the Childe*s
pilgrimage was complete, and "his Lordship's readers" could
"rest during the remainder of their lives from the fatigue of
the journey" (514). However, he blatantly condemned the
ruling principle of the series--what he called a public dis
play of sentiment. Of course, any reader today would
22
recognize Byron's honest emotional expression as the magnetic
attraction that seduced so many readers and earnestly bound
their affections and loyalty to the intrepid bard. However,
according to the unnamed critic, the poet's discordant meta
physical digressions and dismal meditations detracted from
the elegant expressions while they added nothing to the
body of English poetry. This critic perceptively realized
that a loyal reading public would allow a limited censure of
their hero if it was accompanied by a critically favorable
appraisal of some passages. Therefore, he safely concurred
with others in praising the poetic description of Venice and
the moving apostrophe to Italy. To prove to the public that
he was familiar with the canto, he then quoted many stanzas
to support his claim (ii, xii, xxi, xxiii, xxix, xxxviii,
xxxix, xlii, xlvi, xlvii, Ixii, Ixiv). Acting like the
authoritative and omniscient judge of poetic endeavors, this
reviewer went along with Croly in criticizing Byron's use of
the metrically imperfect Spenserian stanza. However, he
isolated himself among the critics when he commended the
funeral orations for a dead empire, damned Byron's lack of
sobriety when viewing Italian art, and voiced a moral censure
of his poetry. Obviously recognizing that his offensive
remarks would alienate many English readers, the critic
apologized for denouncing so fashionable an artist and
attempted to balance his moral censure of Byron with praise
for the historical notes that Hobhouse appended to the
23
various stanzas. He demonstrated a scholarly erudition
beyond other critics when he identified the passage on
Thrasimene as an excerpt from Livy. As a matter of course,
Hobhouse had carried a personal library including Livy's
historical text when he went to Italy, and had repeatedly
referred to the Livy text. However, the anonymous critic
unknowingly acclaimed the effective dominance of Hobhouse
on the canto when he conceded that the poetry in this section
had a particularly vigorous reality to those cognizant of
ancient Italian history. No previous critic had remarked on
Hobhouse' s Hi stori cal Illustrati or s. but this one conjectured
that Catholics had a particular interest in the text because
of its subject matter--the birthplace of their religion. The
critic had obviously not read Hobhouse' s comments mocking and
condemning the Catholic Church's promulgation and encourage
ment of ignorance and superstition among its membership.
In his critical recognition of the historical value of the
volume, he failed to commend the true contribution or to
communicate the full significance of 111ustrati ons to
any reader of Canto IV in any historical era.
One more significant critical article appeared in May,
1818, written by an anonymous reviewer for Scots Magazine.
Like a sheep following the herd, he cited the same poetic
defects that other critics had enumerated--straggling
stanzas, scornful digressions and morbid emotions; trans
gressions which would doom any poet lacking Byron's
24
extraordinary popularity. The anonymous critic also echoed
the common critical opinion of Byron's egotistical nature,
and concurred with others in praise of various passages.
For one, the poetic meditations on Princess Charlotte's
death (clxvii-clxxii) represented a classical model of
beautiful poetry destined to live forever. Second, the
moving depiction of a historically verified earthquake
(Ixii-lxvi) that neither army noticed during the battle of
Thrasimene and the magnificent description of an Italian
sunset (xxvii-xxix) attested to Byron's poetic genius. But
no passage proved so stirring to the reviewer as the passage
on filial piety when the Roman daughter nourished her
imprisoned father with milk from her breast (cxlviii-cli).
Again, a critic unwittingly commended Hobhouse' s exhaustive
research and creative ideas in the canto while he either
totally ignored or deliberately disregarded Hobhouse's
elucidation of the canto through both the notes and the
separate text accompanying the poem.
Reviews continued throughout 1818 in a variety of
different literary journals and revealed a wide range of
divergent critical opinions about the same topics. As
critics competed to articulate creative and original ideas,
some strayed from literary principles to encompass nonaes-
thetic values of biography and history rather than art, but
without acknowledging what Hobhouse contributed to their
understanding of the canto. However, this continued
25
publicity attested to the intense popular appeal of the
canto. Naturally, in the interim between January (when Hob
house returned to England with the manuscript) and the end of
April (when Canto IV was issued), Byron anxiously waited in
Venice, hoping to hear of the reading public's response (not
what the critics said) to the poem. In a flurry of letters
requesting information, Byron fluctuated from despair to
hopeful elation. In June, Hobhouse reported in a letter to
the poet that the poem was selling "prodigiously" (Graham
231). Also, Byron had no conception of the intense public
approval for his liberal political ideology at a time when
the Tories had suspended the right to habeas corpus. In
fact, the Morni ng Chronj cle invited the exile to return to
England and lead the struggle opposing the despotic forces
that he warned against in the canto (244).
Of course, during this time Hobhouse also felt the same
nervous apprehension about the public's reception of both
Canto IV and his own volume. He felt that Canto IV contained
the best poetry Byron had ever written, but that did not
mitigate his own agitation over the notes and Illustrati ons,
On April 28, he remarked that "Childe Harold" had been pub
lished, and he continued with this entry: "God knows what
will be the fate of Notes and Illustrations. I have worked
like a horse, and perhaps like an ass, at them." And again
on May 10, he anxiously speculated that "there are not two
people in England capable of appreciating the book." The
26
critics never conceded that much of the pith of Canto IV
lingered in ambiguous enigmas defying interpretation, and
that Hobhouse's tome contributed the missing information.
Many contemporary critics could not resist the popular
pastime of taking Byron to task morally and philosophically
as they reviewed his literary art. But Wilson (sources dis
agreed whether his first name was David or John) wrote anony
mously to praise Byron's achievement in the June, 1818 issue
of Edinburgh Revi ew. He introduced a new element to the
criticism of the canto when he identified Byron with other
poetic figures starting with Plato, Cicero and Claudian.
According to Wilson, these authors had done the same thing
as Byron--contemplated subjects of dark skepticism, and wrote
out of a personal response to them. The critic also likened
Byron to two modern intellectual giants who poetically
depicted skepticism and suffering. The prominent German
Goethe disguised himself as Faustus to express his doubts
and discontent. And Schiller, likewise a German, expressed
personal agony and anguish through a literary character named
Wallenstein. However, Wilson contended that Byron succeeded
beyond any of the classical figures or German Romantics as he
achieved a meditative majesty, even in melancholy, that
ennobled the readers. Continuing the comparison between
Byron and contintental writers, Wilson then elaborated on
Byron and Rousseau. First, through passionate language,
personal genius, reader influence and kindred contemplation.
27
both men disclosed the utter depths of vivid feeling and
intimate thoughts. Also, both writers plumbed the limits
of man's universal nature, and each became an idol to his
public admirers.
In Byron's case, according to Wilson, these entranced
readers felt a kinship with this "fellow-voyager on the
stream of life" (92), and responded with the personal bond
of love and friendship. Finally, a contemporary critic had
granted Byron a place among other artistic geniuses of the
European literary world. Wilson also dared to stand alone
among peers when he affirmed character rather than narration
as the basic premise in "Childe Harold." Of course, this
rationalization negated Hobhouse' s notes and Illustrati ons
and refuted the obvious travelogue context of the canto. In
another respect Wilson differed with popular critical notions
of the nineteenth century. He cited the Aristotelian
dramatic elements of time and place, and then lauded Byron's
unfettered movement "from hilltop to hilltop, and from tower
to tower, over all the solitude of nature, and all the
magnificence of art" (98), unhindered by the conventional
unities. Furthermore, he uniquely asserted that the fourth
canto reflected a nobler vision as Byron abandoned the
imaginary pilgrim character and capitalized on the public's
infatuation with any adventure in southern Europe. While
the critic confirmed the opinion of others that Byron
attained absolute poetic perfection in some stanzas,
28
he specifically cited the nature passages and the emotional
expressions--the moonscape (xxvii-xxix which echoed two of
Hobhouse' s journal entries), ecstasy and scorn ( clx-clxiii) ,
and realism in description (Ixix-lxxiv, cxiv, clxxviii-
clxxxvi, xlviii-lii, Ixxiii-Ixxxiv, Ixii-lxvi, and cxliii-
cxliv). These included meditative passages on the Velino
cataract, St. Peter's, the ocean, art masterpieces and
statues, the Thrasimene battlefield, and Roman ruins (mostly
Hobhouse's subject matter). In addition, he commended the
poetic qualities in Byron's remorse over the lost grandeur of
Venice (xv-xviii), depiction of Petrarch's home in Arqua, and
meditations over his sepulchre. Would he have changed his
mind if he had realized how many of these inclusions occurred
because of Hobhouse's insistence?
During this time of intense competition to acknowledge
every composition of Byron's, the June issue of Mont hiv Maga
zi ne carried a brief review with an anonymous critic comment
ing on the "Lament of Tasso" before he dealt with Canto IV.
He did not realize that Byron penned the lament after
visiting Tasso's prison cell and learning about Alphonso*s
role in abusing the poet. Of course, at this time Byron
could identify with a persecuted poet whom the Italian people
still reverenced. Also, when he composed this short poem,
Byron vehemently contended that he would not write a fourth
canto. While the critic found the canto lacking in colorful
language and character delineation, he could find no fault
29
with Byron's use of classical poetic principles. He conceded
that Canto IV contained some of the most eloquent poetry ever
written, especially when Byron defended freedom and mourned
over Princess Charlotte's death in childbirth. (Hobhouse was
again surreptitiously commended.)
Obviously, and no doubt because of the reading public,
the critical climate changed after the first reviews of Canto
IV appeared on May 2. After other critics had acclaimed
the brilliance of Byron's accomplishments, an unnamed review
er in the June, 1818, issue of Northern Star endorsed the
poetic achievement and called "Childe Harold" the most beau-
tiul poem in the English language. Like other critics, he
judged by classical standards but found Byron's use of the
Spenserian stanza perfect for the subject matter--it produced
a pleasing rhythmic harmony. Further, he asserted that only
a cultivated mind (little did he know that mind was Hob-
house's) could produce such distinctive poetry. This
commentary belied the general opinion just a month earlier
that a perverted personality sick of life generated the
canto. Unlike most critics, this reviewer (even though
anonymous) defended Byron's character against rumors of
gross misconduct and rash insolence. As one personally
familiar with the charm of a Venetian gondola ride, he
lamented that Venetians no longer recognized the familiar
strains of "Jerusalem" and he shared Byron' s regret that the
gondoliers no longer sang Tasso's chants (iii). He admired
30
the description of Lake Thrasimene and its nearby battlefield
(Ixv)--included because of Hobhouse. This reviewer along
with others, especially Croly, saw a classical attainment of
poetic perfection in the depiction of Rome and its ruins.
He lauded the eloquence in the treatise on love (cxxv) and
on remorse at Princess Charlotte's death (clxii), along with
the articulate statement on melancholy and pleasure (clxxvii-
clxxviii). In accord with others, he cited the poetic
description of an Italian evening and sunset (xxix--which
even the harshest reviewers also admired). He surpassed
other critics in eulogizing the tribute to Petrarch and
various literary figures who deserved acclaim (it was
Hobhouse's idea to include them), and completed his laudatory
survey by praising the Englishman's revival of Tasso's name
as an Italian patriot (again Hobhouse deserves credit). The
critic displayed his own liberal political bent when he con
curred with Byron's warning about Britain losing its freedom
through the despotic reign it currently sustained. He
revealed his familiarity with classical literature when he
commended Byron's allusions and classical associations. He
obviously did not know that Hobhouse was the historical
genius that Byron consulted.
In spite of other critics commending limited passages
in Hobouse' s notes, no previous commentator had referred to
the specific note detailing Laura's "platonic" (473) attach-
m ent to the Italian poet Petrarch. An anonymous critic for
31
Northern Star questioned the so-called "platonic" nature, and
viewed the affair as a passionate storybook relationship. He
further acknowledged Hobhouse' s literary accomplishments and
political ambitions, as well as his longstanding intimate
association with Byron. Using the same passage in the dedi
catory preface that Croly used to jeer at the friendship,
the anonymous reviewer supported the fraternal idealism ex
pressed in the passage. Finally, he expressed gratitude for
the inclusion of the notes with Canto IV as he repeated the
critical assessment that more captious critics voiced--the
notes contained eloquent language, useful information and
interesting anecdotes, but too many political reflections.
Although he credited Hobhouse with the separate material
supporting the canto, he failed to perceive that Hobhouse
influenced the entire canto in its subject matter and
stanzaic arrangement.
Since critics must maintain an independent voice in
relation to other critical commentators, one would expect
and await a changed tone among critics after several compli
mentary reviews of Canto IV. One did not have to wait long
before Joseph Conder appended his name to a jarring review
written in July, 1818, for c Review. He echoed
Croly s biting sarcasm as he questioned the poet-pilgrim's
separate existence. According to Conder, this pretense of an
imaginary character had gone on far too long even though the
disguise fascinated readers. He also scolded Byron for
32
lacking the foresight to develop the childe through planned
action and dramatic incidents. Conder obviously anticipated
an epic rather than a travelogue, and in this judgment he
revealed an eclipsed critical vision since the public wanted
travelogues. In further chastisement, he echoed the bitter
ness of other poetic rivals when he attacked the poet for
incompetence, vanity and monotony in a poetic tale of "ineff
able miseries" (51) by a poet who did not deserve the reputa
tion he had. However, Conder recognized the limit of public
endurance for abuse of their hero, and conceded that some
passages revealed a slight touch of poetic genius. He quoted
lengthy excerpts (several that Croly commended and many that
Hobhouse insisted on) even though he clearly disapproved of
the person who penned them. Conder saved his most scathing
comments for Hobhouse and the notes that occupied two-thirds
of the pages in the Fourth Canto volume. He ridiculed a poem
needing essay-length dissertations ( Illustrati ons) and cen
sured the notes as entertaining but only slightly connected to
the subject.
In the July, 1818, issue of Gentleman' s Magazi ne an
anonymous reviewer, probably John Nichols, attacked Byron
as a talented poet who revealed prejudices when the public
expected a generous nature. He also accused the poet of
squandering his opportunity to be an auspicious political
leader at a critical time in history. Instead of distin
guishing himself as a noble man of circumstance, Byron
33
plunged into officious politics that dishonored his country
of birth; he further accused Byron of writing a pathetic
passage on the laborers of Rome that couched a disapproval of
the English support for Europe's monarchial condition (the
Holy Alliance that England helped organize). Revealing a
rare illiteracy for a critic, he criticized the inclusion of
"obscure" writers in the canto (Dante, Boccaccio, Tasso,
Ariosto, Petrarch, etc.). He conceded one note of praise
for eloquent language and commanding metaphysical concepts,
but he failed to note Byron's traditional romantic subjecti
vity as a traveler meditating on what he had seen.
Using formal rhetoric and commanding literary language,
Sir Walter Scott penned one of Byron's friendliest critiques
for the July issue of Quarterlv Revi ew. Since he signed the
review, he obviously expected and invited readers to consider
his own expertise and accomplishments as a poet and balladeer
while they pondered his comments. Also as a rival poet,
Scott recognized the qualities demanded by the art, and
treasured the overwhelming merit in brilliant poetry. He
commended Byron as the first poet since Cowper to express
without disguise universal emotions and argued that the
reading public felt awe in sharing these emotions as he
reluctantly conceded the end of a pilgrimage that had both
delighted and provoked readers. Scott commended the setting
in Venice (i). As an antiquarian at heart, he probably felt
the magnetic attraction of history when Byron mourned for
34
the city's past glories (iv-v). As a classically educated
Englishman, Scott recognized the vast array of literary
figures mentioned in Canto IV, and felt that the passages on
Arqua and Petrarch, Ferrara and Tasso, Thrasimene and Clitum-
nus sustained Byron's poetic reputation. With the sensi
tivity of one who appreciated nature, he praised Byron's
description of the overgrown landscape of ruins in the Holy
City (cvii-cxvi) and also attested to the poetic power in
language as he commented on the realistic descriptions of the
Pantheon, Mole of Hadrian and St. Peter's. Byron also hit on
another of Scott's deep personal concerns when he mused on
liberty and freedom (clxvii-clxx) . After all, Scott had
written novels about these very subjects. In support of By
ron* s warning, Scott bitterly denounced religious quacks and
political dupes who hoodwinked the English people into be
lieving that extending political rights would solve the prob
lems of vice and misery endured by a crowded population.
If he had perceptively identified Hobhouse*s influence,
Scott might have tempered his criticism of this fellow
English peer. However, when he turned his attention to
Illustrations, Scott became unjustly critical. He admonished
Hobhouse for authoring a text filled with political senti
ments of democracy and egalitarianism--the same topic for
which he had commended Byron. He further charged that these
sentiments catered to the lawless emotions of metropolitan
mobs who would "vindicate freedom of election by knocking out
35
the brains of the candidate of whom they disapprove" (231).
However, he jestingly concluded that Hobhouse was a member
of the gentry, and would probably mature into a man of judg
ment befitting his station in life.
In contrast, William Roberts critiqued Canto IV for
the Bri ti sh Revi ew (August, 1818) in what must be one of
the most scathing reviews ever written. He began with the
preface where Byron's remarks about the pilgrim and his
"diseased and perverted view of life" (2) negated his God-
given talents. Derisively dismissing the holy purpose
implied by the pious Childe reaching the pilgrim's shrine
( clxxv) , Roberts defamed Byron as a pilgrim of "passion,
infidelity, and debauchery" who plagued the already "thorny"
path of other pilgrims (3). He voiced disgust with the
libertine sentiments of a poem produced by a mind sick with
satiety--hardly the appaisal expected for a travelogue with
historical overtones. After finishing with the "drivelling
epistle dedicatory" (10), Roberts attacked Byron as the same
egotistical, angry, ill-humored creature he had always been,
one dissatisfied with conventional social and civic arrange
ments and a lascivious profligate who failed to find con
tinuing delight in dissipation. He asserted that Byron
reflected failure as a sentimental poet whose distressing
me ditation portrayed a man who could not stand himself
(viii-x). According to Roberts, Canto IV expressed wanton
irreverence, superficial splendor and disgusting imagery.
36
It was too long, too repetitious, and too rambling as it
traced the whimsical travels of an imaginary pilgrim. In a
bitter tirade, Roberts questioned Byron's intellectual integ
rity, poetic sincerity and patriotic loyalty. (If he had
known how decadent Byron's life really was, he probably would
have crucified the poet.) He denounced the poet for regrett
ing Napoleon's defeat, for expressing contempt of civil
authorities, for favoring oppressive despotic states, and for
uttering phrases of Jacobin revolutionary sympathy. Most
assuredly, Roberts assumed a different context than other
critics for Byron*s condemnation of the Holy Alliance and
England*s part in that pact. Finally, Roberts admitted that
in spite of such personal and political perversions, the
public felt an incredible infatuation for Byron and the
Childe Harold series. This admission opened an assault on
readers and hack-worshippers who made such absurd works
popular. Roberts unfettered his embittered rage to condemn
the press as a tool of iniquity supplying the reading public
with rubbish on which they could gorge themselves. Probably
without intending to, Roberts revealed his own romantic
sensitivity to nature and his infatuation with motifs of the
past by citing several descriptive passages (xxii-xxiv,
xxvii-xxix, Ixvii-lxxi and Ixxviii-Ixxx) . These included the
mo onlight scene, the Clitumnus River and cataract, and
ancient Rome with its magnificent splendor. Roberts asserted
that in these stanzas Byron demonstrated a classical taste.
37
The critic mocked Byron's reference (in the dedicatory
preface) to the "enlightened friendship" (5) of Hobhouse,
labeling him as another privileged individual endowed with
revolutionary principles and the perverted sentiments of a
reformer espousing republican government. At length he re
called continental events that bombarded the average mod
ern Englishman, and praised the national institutions and
authorities who saved England from enlightened men like Hob
house. Roberts fondly remembered Hobhouse's earlier volume
on Albania and Turkey, but, in evaluating Illustrati OnS-
he accused Hobhouse of producing an "extremely ponderous and
spiritless" (26) volume. He quoted lengthy excerpts on Rome,
the Coliseum and the Forum of Trajan, declared the essay on
Italian literary figures to be a meager biography by an imbe
cile, and concluded by evaluating the notes attached to Canto
IV as inferior in sense and expression, difficult to read and
inelegant in style. He argued that these notes added nothing
to Hobhouse' s literary reputation or to the poetic text they
accompani ed.
Even the most censorious critics manifested a sensitive
appreciation for the eloquent passages in Canto IV that
included Romantic concepts. However, the anonymous reviewer
for Literar.v Panorama for August, 1818, reacted to fewer
passages than other critics. He questioned the genius of
Byron's imagination, and then reproached him for producing
a mediocre poem inspired by the god of wealth rather than bv
38
the muse of poetry. Although he considered Canto IV inferior
to the first three cantos, a few passages triggered the
romanticist attitude in the unnamed writer. He appreciated
the beauty expressed in the opening view of Venice (i-iii,
viii-x), the pathos in the poetic apostrophe to Rome
( Ixxviii-Ixxxi), and the eloquence in reflections on ancient
ruins ( cxxi-cxxiv) . He commended Hobhouse' s production of
Hi stori cal Illustrati ons. but accused a wealthy bookseller
of motivating the collaboration between the two Englishmen.
Also, he questioned the value of a six hundred page volume
of explanations. Following other critics, he blindly over
looked the valuable correlation explaining numerous concepts
in the canto.
The New Monthiv Magazi ne disregarded both the preceding
cantos of ChiIde Harold' s Pilgrimage and other works by By
ron. However, recognizing (just as William Roberts did) the
reading public's infatuation with the traveling pilgrim,
competition with other journals forced them to acknowledge
Canto IV in the September, 1818, issue. The anonymous critic
reacted to Byron's subjective meditations when he toasted
Byron's uncanny ability to associate the heart*s passions
with the mind*s yearnings, and of expressing them so clearly
that the reader was shocked into awareness and understand
ing. Also, the poetic meditations (xxiii-xxiv, viii-x), the
vivid description of an Italian sunset (xxvii-xxix), the
brilliant apostrophe to Tasso (xxxix), and the elegant
39
address to Time (cxxx-cxxxv) struck that same chord to which
other critics responded. He cited the same lengthy excerpts
in praise of Byron's poetic genius and agreed with Byron's
assessment of the canto. Then, without knowing he had al
ready commended Hobhouse, the anonymous reviewer reflected
on Hobhouse' s contribution in both the notes and Hi stori cal
Illustrati ons. The notes (which were too lengthy, too
detailed, and an irksome distraction from the poetry)
sufficiently elucidated the canto, according to the critic,
and made the separate text superfluous. He asserted that the
general reader would ignore all but a few lines of the
tediously long-winded notes, and would never read the bulky
Illustrations.
Another anonymous critic who defied identification pon
dered the intrinsic merit of Canto IV in the September-Octob
er issue of Theatri cal Inqui si tor and Monthly Mi rror. He
tacitly admitted (but did not acknowledge) that the reading
public identified with Byron when he postulated that British
readers had always viewed the pilgrim as a living creature
rather than as an abstract imaginary personage. Again
tacitly (and without admitting it), he endorsed the requisite
concepts of romanticism by detailing his approval of the
poet's admirable descriptions that pictured an "unexplored
region of the human soul" (218), never before regarded and
with which every man identified. The critic also credited
Byron with elegant expression and striking descriptions of
40
the Greek statues and the cataract of Velino (xlix-lii and
Ixix-lxxii). Although the critic doubted the succession of
historical stages that Byron detailed, he admitted that both
the intense feeling and restless energy of the passage on
Britain were typical of the intrinsic merits of Byron's poe
try ( clxvii-clxx) . He also praised Byron for touching the
heart of civilization when he lamented Rome's downfall and
disrepair ( Ixviii-Ixxxi ) . This critic echoed David Wilson
who wrote anonymously for the Edi nburgh Revi ew as he compared
Byron to Rousseau.
As many other critics had, Francis Jeffrey writing
anonymously for the Monthly Revi ew (November, 1818) com
mented on the previous cantos before expressing an opinion on
Canto IV. He became frustrated when classical standards did
not apply to the poem. For instance, he stated that Byron
used epic language but the poem lacked incident and plot.
Instead of action, a lone traveler stalked about in "fits of
sullen misanthropy" (296), moralizing on a perverted nature.
In addition, Jeffrey charged that tiresome descriptions and
idle repetitions added to the extravagant diction and
indiscriminate mechanics to create an artificial style.
Also, these qualities made the work struggle towards a plane
of thought that it never reached. The critic exhibited
little romantic appreciation when he found the poetic
descriptions to be just the "lamentations of a wandering
sp irit" (290). Totally insensitive to the power of language
41
to inspire reverence for beauty, he condemned the lines on
Venice and moved from expressions of disgust with Byron's
lines on Tasso to statements of delight with the ones on
Petrarch. The "zealous" (290) description of Venus de Medici
disintegrated into "awful" (290) depiction of the Thrasimene
battlefield and "labored" (292) remarks on Roman ruins. He
quoted several stanzas (Ixiii-Ixxii) to point out grammatical
problems and "dislocated" (292) stanzas. He charged that
exaggerated emotions distracted from the impressive descrip
tion of St. Peter's grandeur and the Pantheon's simplicity.
Then he reproached Byron for moping in dejection amidst
desolation, and whining when he should show his manly nature.
According to the critic, the poet showed contempt for his
admiring public by indulging in daydreams and dissipation.
Jeffrey diverged from the general critical attitude when he
appraised the passage on Princess Charlotte as tasteless and
disappointing. He also accused the poet of attempting to
surpass what others described before him--specifically, the
exaggerated devotion of the daughter nurturing her father
(cl), the peculiar sentiments expressed at Metella' s tomb,
the personal feelings attributed to the dying gladiator, and
the lackluster description of the Laocoon (clx). Continuing
to cite excerpts, he attested to poetic accomplishments of
beauty when Byron described the Egeria (cxv-cxviii and cxi)
and meditated on the ocean (clxxviii-clxxix, clxxxiii).
In a more comprehensive consideration than most contemporary
42
critics, Jeffrey denounced Hobhouse for reducing Byron's
magnificent poetry to commonest prose through Illustrati ons.
If he had known that what he commended in the canto owed its
existence to Hobhouse, he might have abstained from further
commentary. However, he asserted that, after mangling
Byron's work, Hobhouse buried the reader in a chaos of
frivolous detail. Sarcastically, he charged that Hobhouse
elaborately eulogized Cicero, amplified Parini's poetry and
renounced the submission of Italian citizens to the Austrian
monarchy. He quoted from the notes on Pompey s statue to
demonstrate Hobhouse's style of affectation and disapproved
of the arrangement of material in Illustrati ons, a misnomer
for a volume that only displayed encyclopedic knowledge.
Among the few reviewers who managed to maintain a neu
tral attitude by both praising and criticizing Byron's work,
an anonymous critic for the November-December, 1818, issue of
Bri ti sh Lady s Magazi ne jeeringly taunted Byron for
restringing his lyre to enchant his reading public "with its
melodious sounds" and to carry them "away by some fairy wand"
(371). Then he touched on the down-to-earth connection
between the fictitious pilgrim and the poet. He quarreled
with Byron's prefatory remarks dedicating the canto to
Hobhouse, but conceded that Hobhouse demonstrated profound
knowledge of antiquity and history in the choice of material
in both the notes and Illustrations. After admitting that
"England's greatest poet" (221) had again charmed his reading
43
public, he criticized the same aspects that a number of other
critics had: Canto IV whisked the reader from scene to scene
without warning; it digressed in authorial intrusions of
"misanthropical gloom and regret" (222); it had an irregu
lar meter with run-on stanzas. The anonymous critic then
commented on Byron's mature poetic development and credited
him with creating sublime poetry. He responded to the same
passages that others commended--the dying day (xxvii-xxix),
the roar of a mountain river cataract (Ixix-lxxii), the apos
trophe to Rome and its past heroes (Ixxvii-Ixxxi) , and the
paraphrase of one of Felicaja's sonnets about Italy (xlii-
xliii). Displaying his own classical education, the critic
drew an artistic parallel between Byron as an exile far from
home and various political and literary heroes that he wrote
about--Tasso and Ariosto, Alfieri and Cicero. The critic
anticipated that Byron's statement on love (cxx-cxxi) would
be the most controversial passage among readers. He cited a
lengthy passage (cxxx-cxxxvi) in which Byron depicted an
anguished state of mind and concluded (as many others had)
by quoting the poet's farewell (clxxxv-clxxxvi).
Among definitely friendly commentators the critic writ
ing for an 1818 supplement to Bftlla Assemble^ concluded the
available material on Canto IV during its first year of pub
lication. By the following year, critics had other Byronic
works to dissect. The unidentifiable and anonymous critic
lauded Byron as the modern epitome of poetic genius whom
44
every hack poet imitated. In this statement he acknowledged
through inference what other critics had partially conceded.
The elements to which readers and poets alike responded were
Byron's motivating principles which included an honest
expression of passion and feelings, a revolt against conven
tional standards, a philosophical idealism seeking spiritual
values in nature, a meditative musing on solitude, and a per
ceptive recognition of the broad humanitarian principles of
democracy. The anonymous reviewer defended Byron's excep
tional ability to write captivating passages of eloquent de
scriptions, and quoted a number of the same stanzas commended
by other critics--passages dealing with the pilgrim on the
Bridge of Sighs, meditations in front of St. Mark's and St.
Peter's, and reflections on solitude. The critic never
acknowledged Hobhouse' s influence or literary works pertain
ing to Canto IV.
Perhaps the last critical expression of the nineteenth
century concerning Canto IV appeared in Ernest Hartley
Coleridge's comments in 1898. He considered the canto a
complete and separate poem, independent in both subject
matter and in poetic treatment from earlier cantos. This
accorded with Byron's estimation, expressed in the preface.
With a formality surpassing other critics, Coleridge shifted
from the common regard for romanticism to focus primarily
on semantics. He commended Byron's precise language uniting
philosophical meditations with emotional responses, and found
45
a firm harmony between Byron's exile and anguish, with the
pilgrimage a symbolic trek (the first critic foreshadowing
twentieth-century concerns). He praised some of the more
notable passages: the sunset scene (xxvii-xxix); Santa Croce
(liv-lx); Rome (Ixxx-lxxxii); the death of Princess Charlotte
( clxvii-clxxii); and various meditations on shrines, ruins
and monuments. Coleridge traced the composition and revision
of the canto from its beginning in June to its completion in
December or January, and pinpointed the stanzas added to the
original draft. Uniquely among nineteenth-century critics,
he credited Hobhouse with inspiring Byron's addition of some
stanzas (apparently only twenty-one of the sixty added); he
faintly acknowledged Hobhouse as the one who provided "dry
bones" (315) that Byron wakened into life. Unfortunately he
did not pursue this far-reaching insight although he had
access to everything that today's scholars have. He authen
ticated Hobhouse*s diligent research in archaeology, art and
Italian literature for both notes and Illustrati ons. and
recalled the intimate collaboration between the two writers
as they linked the poem, notes and illustrations. But,
shamefully, he never accorded Hobhouse credit for the infor-
ma tion about revision even though he used Hobhouse as the
source for the manuscript*s history. Also, he never grasped
the value of Illustrations as Hobhouse' s own contribution to
elucidating the canto. Coleridge could have directed the
twentieth century critics toward a new path, but he did not.
46
Since Coleridge also edited separate editions of Byron's
works in 1902 and 1904 and included introductory remarks in
each, he became the transitional critic between nineteenth
and twentieth-century concerns. While he maintained the
former critics' focus on elements of subjective expression
in Canto IV, he focused on twentieth century concerns of
semantics and diction. If he had pursued his insight about
Hobhouse's effective control of Canto IV, he might have
influenced today's critical voices to seriously consider the
total relationship of Byron and Hobhouse. Thus, Coleridge
could have directed twentieth century critics toward an as
yet unexplored domain of the poem rather than toward a
sophisticated analysis of language.
Most nineteenth-century English critics, including
Coleridge, subscribed to the values of the Romantic period.
Indulgence in sentient perceptions and a responsive preoccu
pation with natural values led to the ascension of the
imagination, a concept that furthered the subjective medita
tions of both poets and critics. But whether a critic
esteemed the poetry or demeaned the poet, he sanctioned the
classical elements of poetic harmony and judged by classical
standards of excellence. As Byron categorically encompassed
the themes of romanticism in Canto IV--melancholy, nature,
solitude, humanitarian concerns, reverence for the past--
critics responded in a comprehensive fashion. Some were also
47
alert to the political disposition of the time--a revolu
tionary fervor accompanied by the encroachment of democratic
standards--and reacted to Byron's empathy with the movement.
Whether critics approved or censured Byron and Canto IV,
their criticism did not exhaust the interpretations or
pinpoint the undisguised influence of the friend immortalized
in the dedicatory epistle of the canto.
CHAPTER III
TWENTIETH-CENTURY CRITICS
Although nineteenth-century critics lacked the sophis
ticated techniques of analysis developed by modern critics
for examining literary works, the earlier critics pointed to
autobiographical and contemporary historical elements in the
canto. They commiserated with Byron's subjective reactions
whether the responses grew out of viewing majesties of nature
or sculpted figures in the moonlight; they catalogued his
personal woes and introspective meditations on anger, self-
pity, melancholy, pessimism, despondency and grief along
with his poetic reflections on life and the beauty in nature.
They evaluated his political sentiments and the parallel be
tween his poetic perspective and Italy's as they enumerated
grammatical mistakes and rhythmic weaknesses in the canto.
Many concentrated on a factual account of the tour, recounted
the general themes of ruin and decay, and associated
Austria's tyranny in Italy with Byron's sympathy for an
oppressed people. None of these themes needed a rehash by
twentieth-century commentators as they rummaged for some
credible insight into Canto IV. Yet most modern critics trod
the well-traveled paths to reflect on these same critical
perspectives, and without acknowledging that they simply
transliterated these insights into a technical jargon of
me talanguage. Although some lacked a scholar's integrity
as they repeated the same old cliches, twentieth-century
48
49
scholars refreshingly signed their names to critical comments
instead of hiding behind a cloak of anonymity. Also, few
demanded accountability of others who made unjustifiable
clai ms.
Aside from a common concern with thematic statements
expressed through artistic and evocative language, twentieth-
century commentators diverged into multiple approaches to
re-examine Canto IV. Even though no single perspective be
came definitive, the multiple approaches encouraged serious
scholarship and the specialized interpretations expanded the
ripples of meaning to create a variety of views. Most modern
critics disregarded Hobhouse' s role in the travelogue master
piece, but a few casually mentioned his influence on part of
the subject matter of Canto IV. Not one scrutinized the
significant influence and consequence of Histori cal Illustra
ti ons or bothered to consider the history of Byron's compo-
si ti on.
Although a few twentieth-century critics adhered to a
single critical technique with its textbook patterns, most
used a composite of methods. The greatest number implemented
the traditional biographical-historical perspective. Accord
ing to this viewpoint, the literal syntax of the poem incor
porated the author's reactions and experiences, which in turn
accounted for the poem's tone, allusions and meaning. This
critical perspective reduced a literary work to content only,
deemphasizing the artistic effect. Because many of Byron's
50
works reflected his life and were related to contemporary
happenings, this method of analysis simply confirmed nine
teenth-century opinions instead of furnishing new insights.
John Drinkwater was one of the first critics to apply
this literary method to Canto IV, and was strangely affirmed
as a credible scholar for simply repeating what his nine
teenth century colleagues had cited as delightful poetic
passages although the poet was "senselessly adrift" (287) in
his life of dissipation. Drinkwater's critical text recapped
Byron's excursions and notorious life style as a thirty-year
old with no purpose that would "satisfy a rational being and
give him self-respect" (287). Without deliberating on this
decadence, Drinkwater cited the astounding production of
9,000 lines of poetry in less than two years (including
Canto IV of "Childe Harold") as proof that Byron still
possessed immense creative energy. He argued that a pervert
ed mind or debauched spirit could never produce the eloquent
expressions and relaxed tone of the canto. Drinkwater echoed
the familiar allusion to Byron's defiant contempt for a
soc iety that expected him to produce poetry in spite of a
tragic isolation from his homeland. Then, in a digression,
he acknowledged Hobhouse' s Illustrati ons as a survey of early
Italian history that added an extra depth to the poem if read
in conjunction with it. But, alarmingly, he never credited
Hobhouse's actual influence on the canto or explained how the
Illustrations would enrich the poetic meaning.
51
Another critique delineating the traditional biographi
cal and historical concepts inherent to Canto IV appeared in
1939 when G. Wilson Knight published his essay "The Two Eter
nities." In his quest for a new critical viewpoint on Byron,
the scholar revealed an unprecedented vision of ambiguities
in the canto and indicated several contradictions between
Byron's life and his poetic expressions. First, Knight
recorded the lonely individualism of the poet, and cited the
example of Byron enjoying human society yet remaining an
outsider and exile; the poet used platitudes and apologetics
to reflect on poetic consciousness and intellectual immor
tality; also, he portrayed the "clang and fury of world
affairs" as the antithesis of "simple, often sensuous, joys"
(188). Knight cited another contradiction between the
poet's aristocratic birth and dramatic temperament leading
him to respect history yet defy tradition. In still
another paradox, according to the critic, Byron was superbly
conscious of modern Europe, but felt close to the historic
past; his examples of this contradiction included Byron's
admiration for the gladiator (clxxxix) which did not preclude
his fascination with the Coliseum ruins and the dead empire
he envisioned; the grandeur of the architecture in St.
Peter*s excited a religious fervor and the poet felt torn
between the grandeur of the past and the religious institu
tions of the present; the poet bridged the gap between
past and present with a detailed passage describing the roar
52
of a mountain waterfall and an invocation to the unfathomable
and elemental ocean. Finally, Knight envisioned a paradox in
Byron's love for mankind and his agony over the tyranny of
Napoleon; he gloried in Thrasimene as a battlefield yet re
mained a pacifist uncommitted to revolutionary ideals. The
critic praised Byron's resolution of these personal contra
dictions and cited passages relevant to Hobhouse' s influence
without crediting his contributions to the canto. With a
little research, the critic would have recognized that Hob
house' s thoughtful insights in the canto explained the
contradictions.
Assuming a different tone and taking a different per
spective of the autobiographical elements in Canto IV,
Andrew Rutherford, in 1961, analyzed Byron's reactions and
concerns in the light of Hobhouse' s influence on the poem.
He particularly cited Byron's enthusiasm for sculptures and
antiquities as a direct result of his friend's interest and
concern. Then, this most unreliable of all Byronic scholars
became an incredibly unreliable critic. Although Hobhouse
cited subjects for inclusion in the canto when Byron revised
it and added sixty-six stanzas, Rutherford argued that Hob
house was responsible for only nine additional stanzas.
Ignoring the facts that the pair ate, slept, and worked
compatibly together for weeks in Rome and months in Venice,
the critic argued that Hobhouse exaggerated his influence on
the canto. Then, he quoted some phrases in letters that
53
supposedly refuted what Hobhouse claimed--a personal effect
on the poet's newly acquired interest in painting and
sculpture. Any reader could ascertain in the same letters an
enthusiasm for art that Byron had never before shown. In a
final brazen denial that contradicted Hobhouse' s personal
journal, Rutherford claimed that although the two viewed a
sunset scene in Venice, Hobhouse had no influence on its
inclusion in the canto. However, he did concede that one
could not estimate the indirect influence of Hobhouse on the
final draft.
By means of a definitive technique that expanded the use
of biographical material in criticism, Peter Thorslev, Jr.
added one of the original and ingenious concepts to the crit
ical canon in 1962 when he authored a unique text on the
Byronic hero, and applied the concept to Byron's poetry.
In spite of the poet's prefatory remarks in Canto IV about
dropping all pretence of separation between persona-poet,
Thorslev considered them as two different beings and gave
reasons for regarding the persona as a fabrication of the
imagination. He recalled the poet's scandalous past along
wih his imaginary rather than real exile and charged that
autobigraphical elements in Canto IV relegated Byron to the
status of a discouraged "Hero of Sensibility" (141) searching
for absolutes and projecting his suffering onto the external
world of ruin and decay. He then defined the Hero of Sensi
bility as a combination of the "Gloomy Egotist" and an
54
"ethically uncommitted Man of Feeling" (141) given to morbid
introspection. Though he used different words, he echoed
earlier criticisms as he charged Byron with morbid self-cen-
teredness and a world-weary attitude, all diagnostic symptoms
of the Byronic hero and evident in Canto IV. Thorslev cited
the passage on self-sufficiency ( x) as characteristic of one
unable either to lose himself in his vision of absolutes or
to assert himself in an alien external world. He diagnosed
this dilemma as the central problem dominating the poetry of
Arnold, Tennyson, Clough, and Pater in the Victorian age.
Also, he complained that Byron echoed inconsistent ideals
and defiant anguish as he sought absolute truth without
resolving his inner conflict. The critic considered the
passage on personal suffering and the petty curse of for
giveness ( cxxxi-cxxxv) too specifically emotional and
personal to be literary, and felt that Byron's humanistic
reasoning and self-analysis (cxxvii) marked him as a
recalcitrant hero lacking cosmic vision. However, he
commended the poet's loss of ego and annihilation of self
in the address to the ocean (clxxviii).
Differing from other critics, M. K. Joseph comprehen
sively incorporated multiple modes of analysis with the
biographical considerations. But he became another critic
who missed the point of Canto IV as a travelogue recorded by
a sensitive Romantic. Also he failed to appreciate the true
significance of the historical overtones of the canto because
55
he disregarded the bulky materials explicating the canto.
Joseph (in an essay penned in 1964) concentrated on both
historical poetic elements and the relationship of Italian
poetics to Canto IV. He identified Harold as a character
study of what not to be, and categorized Byron's description
of Roman ruins as a Renaissance tradition; in this tradition,
thematic significance lay in tracing the evolution of empires
to recall past glory, in lamenting lost love, and in admitt
ing time's triumph over mortality. The critic also cited
Byron's use of the classical Petrarchan tradition of develop
ing themes begun in previous cantos, namely immortality and
decay. Of course, this was only a rehash of nineteenth-cen
tury ideas connecting Byron to his poetic predecessors.
Evidently Joseph sensed that Canto IV conveyed meaning
beyond the surface syntax, but he did not delve into the im
plications of his own pronouncements. As he shifted critical
tone, he noted Byron's normal disparagement toward sculpture
and unknowingly commended Hobhouse's influence when he re
marked that several passages revealed a new sensitivity to
sculpted works of art. Joseph cited examples to support this
thesis: first, the poet developed the Venus de Medici into a
goddess who celebrated sexual love as a convergence between
human and divine love in a mortal world; he imagined the dy
ing gladiator's thoughts of home and family, which revealed
the poet's capacity to express human affection and sorrow;
finally, the Laocoon image led to a vision of human suffering
56
and another depiction of deity incarnate. To the critic,
these same passages revealed a subjective response denoting
a sensitive spirit. In grasping for some significant truth
that evaded his comprehension, Joseph examined the ambivalent
language in the Nature passages and cited the ocean setting
where Byron voiced his delight in solitude (which to Joseph
suggested a reconciliation with human imperfection). Joseph
considered the Coliseum passage the clearest statement that
Byron had ever made on man's immortality as he mirrored the
architectural ruins in a mental landscape that the critic
labeled a "ruinscape" (207). If he had determined where
Byron wrote the canto, he could have averted this misstate
ment. To the critic, this ruinscape became the poetic image
for human identification of the poet himself as a ruin, which
expanded the nineteenth-century concept. Joseph also echoed
the nineteenth-century idea that ruins poetically linked the
past and present and reflected the inevitable pattern of all
human history. Groping for a transcendent meaning that he
sensed, Joseph like others missed the essence of the canto.
But in a later article, he identified part of that essence.
Joseph was the only one to seriously consider Hob
house' s role and to faithfully credit his influence in the
structural format of Canto IV. In 1966, Joseph analyzed
the symmetrical shape of the poem and found two equal halves
with stanza Ixi marking the transition between the two sec
tions after the numerous additions dictated by Hobhouse. Any
57
critic who properly did his homework would never accept less
than this obvious inference. Also, any astute reader who knew
Hobhouse's propensity for regimentation and literal conformity
would expect him to demand a uniform symmetry and circumspect
balance between parts. In one of the most insightful
articles written, Joseph came close to the crux of the canto
when he pinpointed the almost equal division of the poem
between passages on Venice and the journey to Rome, and Rome
itself with the concluding apostrophe to the ocean. This
insight almost penetrated to the secret of Hobhouse determin
ing many facets of the canto's formation and subject matter.
When Joseph divided the added stanzas into general cate
gories, three types prevailed--accretive, expansive, and
loosely linked. By his analysis, the accretive stanzas deve
loped previously stated themes or introduced new ones. He
cited the example of the ruined Rome passage leading into a
section on Sulla, which emphasized the sensuousness of the
Venus statue. Accretive passages also included the descrip
tion of the sunset on the Brenta, the forgiveness curse, and
the address to the ocean. Continuing the definitive analysis
of alterations, Joseph cited the expansive stanzas as those
which developed political and contemporary scenes and includ
ed historical material--added because his friend insisted
that he had overlooked topics. These stanzas smoothed pass
ages or connected ideas--for instance, the lines on Dante
and Ariosto alongside the ones on Tasso; the guidebook
58
stanzas on Santa Croce, the Palatine and St. Angelo's Castle;
the addition on Dandolo, Doria and Lepanto; the passage on
the Capitol and Forum; and the description of Lake Nemi.
Finally, Joseph defined the loosely linked stanzas as those
developing contemporary elements and embodying irrelevant
digressions on Cromwell, on love and reason, on Egeria and
solitude, on literary immortality, on revolutions and free
dom, and on Napoleon. Also the anti-Austrian stanza and the
lament for Princess Charlotte, along with the reflections on
battlefields and fallen empires formed loosely linked stan
zas. Joseph sensed Hobhouse as a controlling force for
the added stanzas, but he failed to follow his own intimation
to conclude with the valuable enrichment offered by Hob
house' s own work.
Concentrating on biographical elements of subjectivity,
an impeccably reliable Byron scholar, Leslie Marchand, devot
ed a chapter of a critical text edited in 1965 to analyzing
personal elements of subjective expression that Byron includ
ed in the last canto. These comprised the poet's view of the
beauty and decay in Venice and Italy, his brooding over the
city's lost glory associated with a boyhood fascination for
Venice (xviii), his own exile (xxi), and his sense of total
desolation and unfulfilled yearning for love. Also, Marchand
charged that the poet subjectively interwove his personal
life into the historical pageant of Italy--Tasso' s prison
cell reminded him of all poets' oppression, Florence aroused
59
images of Dante and Ariosto exiled, and the Venus statue
prodded him to recall Greek legends about the goddess and
love. He also classed as subjective other passages where
the poet developed the theme of the inevitable downfall of
ambitious tyrants, contemplated the ideal versus the real
yet found no solace for his frustrations, expressed yearning
and loneliness when the fountain of Egeria reminded him of
divine love for mortal man, digressed to his own suffering
when the image of the slain gladiator revealed a troubled
mind that voiced the frustrations of all men. Marchand
asserted that stanza cxxvii indicated Byron's transcendental
leap of faith, accepting the intellect as the only escape
from both actual and symbolic desolation that surrounded him.
Marchand's comments sounded fresh as he reworded nineteenth-
century ideas, but he plumbed new depths in his striking
and commendable insights about transcendentalism. However,
he missed a greater insight concerning the personal friend
ship that guaranteed momentous beauty in phenomenal poetic
expressions. He used Hobhouse' s journal to make several
points, but never hinted that Hobhouse influenced Canto IV.
As another scholar critiquing Byron's poetry with tradi
tional vernacular, Francis Doherty (in 1969) isolated and
identified some biographical and historical components in
Canto IV, but added nothing to the canon of nineteenth-cen
tury critics. First, he recalled Byron's youthful fascina
tion with Italy and praised Byron's use of analogies to
60
project himself into the historical context of his tour.
These included the association of the birth and death of
specific Italian poets with various cities and villages, from
which the poet drew an analogy between his own exile and the
mistreatment of Dante and Tasso. Describing the Coliseum in
the moonlight prompted a recreation of the gladiator's bloody
death separated from his loved ones, and became an analogy of
Byron's personal situation; viewing the permanent and change
less ocean, the poet found an image for eternity and meditat
ed on love as an unattainable ideal (cxxi).
In a broader perspective, Doherty cited the passage on
Venice as an appropriate starting place for the overall
theme of si 9 f, ip ''" i t gloria mundi with Byron simultaneously
viewing the destruction and seeing the irony of his own per
sonal experiences. He cited stanza v as Byron's acceptance
of memory as the key to immortal survival and his acknow
ledgement of the ruins and ancient poetic voices as all that
survived of the past grandeur of a civilization. According
to Doherty, when the poet resigned himself to life and recon
ciled himself to fate, he could express distress both for
Italy's enslavement and England*s attitude of unconcern.
Continuing the same mode of analysis that other modern
critics used, Paul Trueblood focused on a factual account of
Byron's Italian tour and the poet*s subjective response to a
variety of inspirations. Perhaps he had never heard of
Wordsworth's theory of poetic creativity, and obviously he
61
did not study the relationship between the poet's responses
and the time of writing the canto. As he retraced Byron's
journey with Hobhouse from Switzerland through Italy, he
reminded readers of the close collaboration between the two in
writing both the notes and Historical Illustrations, but he
failed to explore the meaning inherent in the cooperative
enterprise. He added a new note to the old song when he
commended Byron's harmonious blend of Augustan style and
Romantic subject matter. However, he joined the nineteenth-
century chorus in acclaiming Byron's awareness of Austrian
tyranny in Italy and sensitivity to recent repressive meas
ures passed by England's parliament. Trueblood alluded to
the same elements dwelt on by multiple sources when he
mentioned Byron's natural affinity for oppressed people.
According to Trueblood, as a result of sifting through his
deepest feelings and inner anxieties, the poet objectively
transmuted his personal remorse, melancholy and pride as he
recognized the transcendence of human dignity over decay.
Finally, Trueblood repetitiously surveyed several other per
spectives examined innumerable times by countless critics--
nature lost its mystical sense for Byron; the Coliseum ruin
inspired reflections that celebrated man's achievement in a
past civilization; art reflected an immortal transcendence
in the Venus, Laocoon and Apollo sculptures.
In a 1988 essay, Michael Foot analyzed a different
biographical aspect of Byron's life by questioning how the
62
poet's lengthy residence in Venice affected Canto IV. But he
added nothing new to critical insights. He recalled the
reluctance with which Byron left Venice to join Hobhouse in
Rome and then enumerated sundry lessons that Byron learned on
the tour. One familiar with the composition pattern of Canto
IV would doubt the validity of his conjecture. But Foot con
tended that the poet discovered that each village celebrated
some event of historical or literary significance, and that
he recognized the contribution of all to the national glory.
Second, he advanced in political thinking; he hated the
Austrian occupation of Italy and condemned England's part in
devising the Treaty of Paris that allowed Austria to subju
gate Italy, Further, to accentuate this assertion, he incor
porated a sonnet by Vincenzo da Filicaja, a contemporary
Italian poet. This deed, according to Foot, annoyed the
Austrian police who responded by censuring and confiscating
Italian versions of Canto IV. He quoted the plagiarized
sonnet (xlii-xliii) and numerous other stanzas in which Byron
detailed his hatred of tyranny (xlvii, xciii-xcv, xcvii-
xcviii, cxxi, cxxv-cxxix). Overall, the critic felt that
Byron learned to face his dilemmas and struggled to find
answers by weaving skepticism into his religous faith and
candidly defying despair.
Foot echoed others in recalling that Byron knew the
Italian language, even to slang, before he went to Italy;
that he had been steeped in the classics, had translated
63
classical texts, and had read poetry by a variety of contem
porary Italian writers. However, these critics mistakenly
credited Byron with an intellectual inquisitiveness and zeal
for learning that he did not have. If anything, he was in
tellectually lazy, yet the critics saw no contradiction
between their acceptance of Byron's dissipation and their
assumption that he deserved credit for every intellectual
tidbit in the poem. Foot did note one new fact--Byron plag
iarized Mary Ann Radcliffe's Mvsteries of Udolpho in his
vision of Venice from the Bridge of Sighs.
Although not every critical technique would apply to
Byron's poetry, a number of critics approached Canto IV from
the psychological perspective. Romanticism's orientation to
the unconscious certainly invited this subjective examina
tion, and one of the first to seek clues to new meanings for
Byron's themes and symbols was William Calvert. He believed
that when Byron dropped his pilgrim disguise, completing the
journey was the only possible ending for the work. He par
roted nineteenth-century voices in criticizing the poem's
"loose" structure, yet praising "its poetry, its force, the
splendor of its diction, and its perfect sincerity" (144).
Calvert randomly wandered through a field of jargon in grasp
ing for some significant insight into Byron's thinking. He
surmised that as an exile Byron felt a new freedom, and
travel stimulated his emotions and reactions. Calvert also
felt that the poet deliberately and conscientiously kept his
64
imagination earthbound as he investigated a personal commit
ment to truth and reason. Perhaps the critic unwittingly
touched on another influence of the down-to-earth Hobhouse
with his mundane philosophical viewpoint.
In a second critical article and another modern analysis
of Byron's consciousness, Andrew Rutherford (in 1967) dis
cussed the poetic mood and viewpoint of the tourist poet
writing Canto IV. He did not add a new note as he directed
the reader's attention to the weaknesses that nineteenth-cen
tury voices harped on--a journey format and the familiar
themes of "ranting pessimism" (96), "wild indignation and
self-pity" (95), anger, melancholy, despondency and grief.
Rutherford continued to parrot earlier reviews when he
deduced that the passage on forgiveness was not genuine, but
a poet's admiration for his own behavior (cxxxiv-cxxxv) .
Nineteenth-century critics had long before identified the
psychological perceptions of Rutherford. Every critic had
acknowleged the poet's despondency and self-satisfaction
(cxxiv) and the characteristic pessimism which colored the
poetic reflections on life (cxxiv, cxxvi). Again parroting
earlier voices without crediting them, Rutherford claimed
that the digressions (such as li-lii) detracted from coherent
thought and that, when the poet discussed his own ruin, he
lapsed into anger and self-pity. Rutherford continued
echoing earlier critics who described how Byron identified
with Tasso as an exiled and persecuted poet, and how the
65
greatness of Tasso in persecution transcended mutability and
death. Citing Byron's guidebook exclamations over Venice (i)
as the nineteenth-century critics did, and his victim-tourist
meditating over sad surroundings (xxv), Rutherford tediously
redefined the same subjective and contradictory emotions
Byron treated in verse--delight and melancholy, failure and
success. Rutherford's comments left the reader with a
prosaic sense of dei a vu.
Another modern psychological analysis also failed to
enlighten or inform beyond the earliest critics' insights
as M. G. Cooke supported Calvert's analysis of Canto IV as
a psychological assertion of identity expressed through
musings and narrations. According to Cooke, in proposing
imagination and awareness to counteract resignation and
jadedness, the poet reversed his previously expressed atti
tude. Also, he psychologically discarded his hostility by
pronouncing the curse of forgiveness, but his affirmation of
love created more turbulent emotions. Cooke saw a curious
duality between Byron's hostility and despair with each cre
ating its own chaos. Although the poet's meditative method
clarified his transcendence of self, it betrayed a spiritual
vacuum rather than self-approval (xxxiii, cxliii, clxi).
Cooke interpreted the opening lines* focus on the narrator as
an attempt to come to terms with human history, including
Byron's own life. He saw significance in Byron's proposing
imagination ( v), reality ( vi) , Reason (vii) and resignation
66
( X, xxi) as the vantage points for achieving harmony in his
life, and cited Byron's use of Art, Empire and Nature as the
nucleus for organizing the canto. In a broader perspective,
Cooke noted that Byron used the canto to proclaim a new
attitude as he grappled with the perplexities of his own
existence, and theorized that reason tempered Byron's pain
and led him to conclude that suffering comprised the root
of man's existence. Only in the death of Princess Charlotte
could the poet come to grips with his own mortality. As a
consequence, in the ocean passage, he could dispassionately
compare man's life to a bubble either sinking or floating on
the surface.
Continuing the search for new meaning in Canto IV, Peter
Manning verbalized the same theory as Thorslev relative to
the persona-poet relationship, and went one step further than
Thorslev. Manning contended that the pilgrim was a necessary
psychological device; when Byron discarded Harold as a
poetic voice, he could no longer distance himself from the
poem; when he lost his alter ego, he became responsible for
the scandal that made him an outcast and exile. Thus,
according to Manning, Byron used the gladiator as the "para
digm" (92) of history and associated his own suffering with
the desolation around him. Manning also reiterated what
others had said--the art in St. Peter's reminded Byron of the
delusion of love; the Egeria reminded him of human love he
had been denied; in vacillating between hope and despair, the
67
poet enjoyed the dramatic isolation of his misery; he demand
ed that the world view his suffering but did not include the
details one must know to understand it.
One psychological critic, Philip Martin (1982), examined
the rhetorical devices of Canto IV by which Byron attempted
to regain the mental balance lost in recent misfortunes.
Martin considered the reversion to nature (clxxviii) as an
admission of failure in achieving the equilibrium the poet
sought. Instead, he saw the poet committed to penning what
the public wanted him to write; thus the extreme distractions
(everything from the horses at St. Mark's to the beauty of
the ocean) reduced the poet to a sightseeing tourist, and ab
solutely nobody but a critic would fault Byron for this. He
diagnosed Byron's compulsion to express his feelings as the
tool that welded gestures and words into a conglomerated con
text and led to a disaster of poetic expression. According
to Martin, the gulf between metaphor and meaning, between
context and reference, and between emotions and sensory
experiences resulted in confused discussions and indistinct
impressions. He concluded that the ending showed Byron's
dissatisfaction with the poem (clxxv-clxxxvi) . As Byron
tried to meet the demands of contemporary critics, he made
a desperate attempt to reconcile personal frustrations and
poetic perceptions.
Another psychological treatise concentrated on Byron's
self-analysis of personal and historical matters. Alan Bold
68
(1983) made a number of straightforward indictments of Byron.
First, in seeking release from melancholy and disappointment,
the poet let nostalgia, political themes and self-disgust
color his view of history in Canto IV; by linking his person
al disaster with the Fall (xcvii), he viewed his alienation
as a natural consequence of exaggerated pride. However, By
ron credited literature with a redemptive quality ( v) , and
analyzed the effect of Tasso's literary power in persecution
over his patron prince (xxxv-xxix); he linked reflections on
love and heroism with a discussion of power. He formulated
ideas on the intellect's immortality through his own mind-
heart dilemma; he examined his current political idea about
liberty and linked his emotional ideal about love and self-
sacrifice to it (cxxv-cxxcii) . Nineteenth-century critics
expressed similar concepts in the same context that Bold
did. However, Bold saw a new perspective in Byron's not
perceiving that his personal life shaped his literary
exigencies--a Romantic discontent with actual conditions,
abandonment of political ambitions for a literary career,
loss of social position in exile, and the inability to
reconcile the real with the ideal.
In 1986, another modern critic named James L. Hill ana
lyzed the psychological consciousness poetically expressed
in Canto IV. He defined a double awareness that both redir
ected the narrative and revived the epic while it projected
mind and self into the historical past and its ruins. He
69
recalled the classical education which prompted Byron to find
his subject matter in nature and man, and refreshingly added
a new insight into Byron's correlation between feeling and
locality. Hill claimed that Byron appropriated Words
worth' s technique for "Tintern Abbey" and cited two speci
fic elements of this poetic technique: the introduction took
place in the narrator's mind; then the poet moved outward to
the landscape and then back into memories aroused by the
scene. At this point, according to Hill, Byron departed from
the pattern to explore his consciousness. The critic sensed
that a heightened consciousness of creative awareness in
spired Byron's description to transcend the physical world
he viewed (which was another Wordswort hi an technique, but
Hill did not pursue the implications of his claim). Accord
ing to him, in the opening section on Venice Byron particu
larly asserted this poetic consciousness, seeing Venice as
both a human creation and a city of his mind. When he medi
tated on the mind's activity, a chance stimulus triggered a
memory, and, in Hill's analysis, Byron equated the city's
past historical fortune to his own past. When the poet medi
tated on the psychological resilience of mankind in general,
he used Venice as a microcosm for the struggles and failures
of Italy. Hill asserted that this sequence led the poet to
establish a parallel between the city and his own past.
Strangely, he did not sense a more significant Words-
worthian aspect and influence in Canto IV, and he did not
70
explore any influential connection between Hobhouse and the
subject matter that he commended in the poem. He considered
the passage on the sunset, with its dramatic struggle between
night and day, Byron's most vivid description of the natural
world. According to Hill, this conflict in nature led the
poet to struggle with his own self-identity and his past
history as a ruin; such introspection led to Byron's psycho
logical projection of mind and self into the ruins in Rome,
and placed Byron at least a century ahead of his time.
However, in short. Hill simply cloned what most nineteenth-
century critics parroted.
One of the most recent psychological treatises on Byron
provided another rehash of the same insights. Vincent Newey
(in 1988) critically viewed Byron's perception of self and
self-identity in Canto IV by focusing on the poet's sense of
becoming and the act of self-definition proclaimed when Byron
asserted his supremacy over the ocean (clxxxiv). The critic
traced the stages of this climactic expression by beginning
with Byron's reflections on love at Metella' s tomb as he
examined the psychological dimensions of submission and
artistic limitations in his shattered life; torn between his
quest and his aspirations, he sought a higher truth as the
focus for his imagination. But, according to Newey, wherever
he turned he found patterns of glory and decay and viewed
everything in both perspectives. Newey next cited the
blending of celestial and human in Byron's assertion that art
71
nourishes the spirit (cxxii). The critic analyzed the
association of the discord between man and his cosmos and
cited Byron's philosophical idealism (cxxvi-cxxvii) . He
remarked that as Byron felt challenged by his helplessness,
he asserted the creative capacity of contemplation (cxxviii)
and faced the dark reality of his own fragmented life. The
voiceless and empty Rome mirrored the poet's own darkness and
ruin, according to Newey and most nineteenth-century critics.
Newey concluded that as Byron became liberated from himself,
he questioned his desires and commitments,, and reconstructed
his life as a set of symbolic attitudes; in perceiving
history as a dramatic pageant, he understood the gladiator's
sacrifice as an amusing diversion, but he saw the death as
the epitome of man's inhumanity to a fellow human. In
contemplating the ruins of the Coliseum, the poet speculated
on the legendary power of love (cl), and found the affirma
tion he sought in the magnificent perfection of the Apollo
Belvedere (clxi-clxiii). This, according to Newey, allowed
Byron to psychologically transfer his concerns about dignity
in suffering to a symbolic attitude toward life where he
could question the immortality of art and the gap between
man and deity that art bridged. Newey concluded that Byron
never renounced a transcendental hope although he realized
that the unspeakable realm of the Spirit remained beyond
man's earthbound state of being--the human intellect could
intimate the grandeur of the divine, but constraints of
72
nature prevented comprehension (civ). The critic noted
the pilgrim fading (clxiv-clxv) and Byron echoing his own
inconsequence as he viewed the ocean.
Several modern critics were concerned with thematic
statements in Canto IV. Certainly Byron's artistic use of
images, symbols and themes elicited an appreciation for his
evocative verbal patterns and their associated connotations,
but citing the same elements in critical verbiage did not
appreciably add to critical insights. As critics examined
verbal patterns, they separated ideas from motifs that
contributed to themes and thematic meaning.
Robert F. Gleckner, who had achieved recognition as
a scholar-expert on Don Juan but knew little about
ChiIde Harold' s PiIgri mage, focused on motifs in
Canto IV as he also examined the skeletal structure. In
jargon transliterating nineteenth century concepts, he cited
a section of the canto where Byron moved from motifs of
personal meditation on Venice to meditations on Tasso's poe
try and poetry in general to contemplating himself as a poet,
and then launched into more meditations on Venice to conclude
the passage. Thus the city's history intertwined with his
personal history and he envisioned himself as a ruin among
ruins. Gleckner also cited Byron's use of Rome as a mental
landscape, and he used Metella' s tomb to work through
personal memories and desolation to his own death. In a
uniquely refeshing digression, Gleckner conceded that
73
Hobhouse influenced the additional stanzas on Italian art and
literature; those emphasizing vanished power (xii-xiv),
correlating the historical aspects of men and art (xlvii),
lamenting the irreplaceable loss of Alfieri (xcvi-cxviii,
cxx-cxxvii), improving the unity (xciii-xcv), and eulogizing
Princess Charlotte ( clxvii-clxxii) . Contradicting others,
Gleckner contended that the Nature images constituted the
weakest part of the canto. Again repeating nineteenth-
century notions without crediting the sources, he applauded
the imagery in the description of the Coliseum, of the dying
gladiator, and of the Caritas Romana; he particularly
commended the poetic vision of the gladiator's agony encom
passing the agony of all men, and his death as the fate of
all. Gleckner applauded the thematic statements on grandeur
and ruin ( cxlvi-cxlvii), the St. Peter's passage (cliii-
clix), and the powerful images embodying themes of exile and
despair, of ideal and lost love. Gleckner argued that no
other poet had ever projected himself so completely into
images to depict a personal desolation and to assimilate
himself with mankind both past and present.
The poem's one and only female critic, Alice Levine,
used a thematic analysis to outline correlations between
Byron and T. S, Eliot, antithetical figures with classical
taste and linked to Augustan poets by rhetoric and theme.
Levine, in 1978, declared that Eliot's "Waste Land" was a
mo dern day metaphor for Childe Harold both in statement and
74
in theme--both poems recorded a quest for meaning in life
amid images of ruin. By this new insight she gave Canto IV
a cosmic significance beyond other critics' perceptions, and
expanded Byron's authoritative influence to a new generation
of poets. Continuing to blaze a new path, she labeled ChiIde
Harold a social satire and envisioned Byron as a compulsive
role-player using Harold to mouth spontaneous and contradic
tory reflections. However, she joined the multitude of
voices when she described the poem as an open-ended pil
grimage with diverse episodes and fragmented digressions, no
plot and no unity although Byron used a religious title and
alluded to a religous theme. Levine focussed on Time as
both a thematic expression of the poet's awareness of death-
in-life (cxxiv) and as the renewal force in nature. For
instance, when meditating among ruins and decay, the poet
indulged in the subjective style of the romantic coping with
the dilemma of his past, present and future (civ-cv). And
his curse of forgiveness represented the climactic awareness
of the ambiguous relation between the poet and his personal
life. Also according to Levine, the poet questioned know
ledge and the lesson of history much as Eliot had in his
poetic work. The critic cited numerous personality and
poetic similarities: each poet became a symbol of his age;
both used themes of history, art and religion to comment on
contemporary life and to make a personal statement; both
wrote in an aftermath of heavy bloodshed in war; both held
75
shattered illusions and discovered meaningless existence and
empty failure; both affirmed the search for self-identity in
the midst of personal disappointment and disillusion; both
expressed concern with the problems of temporal existence
and an ambivalent attitude toward subjective experiences as
poetic subject matter; both had problems in maintaining
coherence between the poet and his persona; both used poetry
as a means of escape from the emotional turmoil of life.
Continuing contemporary criticism of Canto IV's thematic
devices, Bruce Haley in 1983 concentrated on the art for ms
used in constructing the canto (another voice hiding behind
jargon to echo nineteenth-century articulations). Particu
larly through sculpture and architecture, according to Haley,
Byron paralleled his personal perspective with Italy's.
Also, in Haley's view, the poet symbolically projected the
stone figures as an illusion of reality, and this projection
blurred the distinction between Byron's mental images and
the tangible forms of sculpture. In this disorientation,
the characters, the scene, and the poet's feelings merged
while vivid reflections triggered the poetic imagination to
create its own reality. In this loss of perspective, the
poet made ambiguous statements open to a variety of interpre
tations ( Ixxxviii-xciii) . Haley cited Byron externalizing
his vision through figures of stone and then relating man's
history to the marble pieces. Since the poet could not
comprehend the entire panorama, he concentrated on one object
76
at a time, asking baffling questions (xcix). According to
the critic, when he found no answers, he withdrew into his
subjective imagination and created his own structures from
the temples, statues and tombs that recalled past glories
and suggested the isolation and spiritual death that Byron
lamented. As separate images in the general theme of ruin,
these figures prompted context building. According to Haley,
they became assertive, dynamic symbols suggesting human
yearning and struggle, but symbolizing human triumph and
achi evement.
Another critic, Michael Vicario (1984), concentrated on
the thematic implications of the subtitle "A Romaunt" append
ed to the entire poem. After concentrating on each canto, he
suggested some recurring thematic images and digressions in
Canto IV as Byron moved from revery to wisdom and from inno
cence to experience. He dismissed the first eight stanzas
as an eighteenth-century romance writer's dilemma of illusion
and reason. Also he cited stanzas (1-lxiii) that endorsed
the power of imagination to amplify and enhance a life of
bondage. He suggested that the water scenes ( Ixii-Ixxiii )
showed a complex fusion of style, but considered the descrip
tion of St. Peter's the crowning accomplishment whose hiero
glyphic meaning lay in the effect it elicited. Also, accord
ing to Vicario, in the passages dealing with traditional
romance themes--love, war and religion--Byron substituted
personal themes for the historical realm and readjusted the
77
traditional meaning of history. Furthermore, the Coliseum
stanzas (cxliii-cxliv) demonstrated the subjective nature
that Byron imposed on objective historical fact. Thus,
according to the critic, Byron expanded history to por
tray the progess of a human soul through gradual stages of
vision, knowledge and comprehension. He cited the central
problem of Byron's romance--trying to find meaning in history
while viewing history in a romantic revery, and concluded
that the poem was an anti-romance.
Several twentieth-century critics examined the philoso
phical statements of the canto. This method precluded a
study of form and of figurative language as well as other
aesthetic considerations, but it offered one more way to par
rot others' insights. One of the earliest critics to philo
sophize about Canto IV was Solomon Francis Gingerich in 1929.
He interpreted Canto IV as a song of defiant hopelessness
about man's predestined fate. Gingerich accepted the time as
one of personal pain and suffering for Byron, but he credited
Hobhouse with helping the poet to escape from his bleak des
pair. He cited Byron's boyhood fascination with Venice as an
objective influence toward creating the calm tone of the can
to. He particularly cited the beauty of expression in stanza
cxxxv where Byron expressed his personal woe and philoso
phized on faith in ideology. While the poet confirmed a be
lief in the Calvinist viewpoint (cxxvi) concerning the de
structive force of original sin on one's life, the critic
78
felt that Byron accepted the transcendental concept of an
indestructible immortality in man's intellect (civ). Ginger
ich believed that the poet's outlook on life (as a violent
struggle for happiness unattainable) perverted Byron's gen
ius. But, he also perceived a keen understanding of the
political situation in nineteenth-century Italy as Byron
philosophized about the general state of affairs, contrasted
tyranny and freedom, and asserted his support for Italy's
struggle to attain independence. Thus, unknowingly, Ginger
ich commended the most influential facets of Hobhouse' s rela
tionship to the canto as he selected at random some earlier
commentary and repeated the ideas by covering them in new
syntax.
Also following the philosophical bent of Byron's poetic
expressions as he expanded others' ideas, Hoxie Neal Fair-
child (in 1931) examined two facets of Canto IV: transcen
dental aspects of the poet's struggle to mediate the ideal
with reality and to explain the conflict between reason and
illusion; and ^eltschmerz as the psychic state of one unable
to reconcile his ideals with his personal situation. Fair-
child considered the eighteenth-century poetic tradition of
romantic melancholy as one preeminent theme: Byron found
himself alone in a world not related to his desires and wav
ered between irony and melancholy when he recognized the gap
between reality and ideal. The critic contended that the
poet took his idealism too seriously (that was what Croly and
79
Hazlitt seemed to say), and was too realistic to reconcile
the actual situation with Utopian visions. Although Byron
approached transcendentalism in his attempt to reconcile the
contraries (observed in cxxi-cxxii, according to Fairchild),
melancholy was the pervasive and central theme. Again Byron
explored the transcendental avenue (the critic cited cxvi as
proof) when he rationalized on his Calvinist background with
its doctrine of fatalism and predestination. Although he
expressed a need for bridging the gap between reality and
faith (cxvii), Byron never asserted his faith, Fairchild con
cluded. The critic reasoned that he came close to the trans
cendental approach when he declared his trust in the immor
tality of the mind, but he never resolved the head and heart
controversy; thus, he never achieved the peace promised by
transcendentalism.
Ward Pafford (in 1962) also examined transcendental for
ces in Canto IV. He commended the eloquent language and
impressive sobriety of the work and affirmed the head-heart
conflict that nineteenth century critics perceived, He
examined the paradoxical tension between imagination and
reason as Byron expressed it through thought and feeling.
However, as he recalled how Byron used poetic composition
as a creative refuge from an alien society, Pafford expanded
the scope of earlier philosophical ideas to view a construc
tive imagination as a link between man and his maker. He
cited several stanzas expressing the poet's thoughts on
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creativity and imagination ( v, vi, vi i i, xx, xxiii, xxiv),
and interpreted them to enforce his viewpoint. His first
conclusion was that Byron's self-imposed exile from England,
along with the resumption of travel, stimulated a renewed
burst of creative energy--a backhanded acknowledgement of
Hobhouse's influential friendship. Third, when the poet
verbalized the paradox of creative composition becoming a
permanent refuge from wretched mortality, he acknowledged
man's intellect as the supreme human asset. As his mind
grew, he developed a defiant strength that overcame all the
obstructions placed in his way by society; he actively
fathomed memories and responded to past experiences to shape
a reality that linked past and present. Finally, through
contemplation the poet increased his sensitivity until it
afforded the creation of fruitful thought through art. After
tracing the development of Byron through these stages,
Pafford postulated that historical scenes provided the
stimulus for Byron's poetic imagination until he recreat
ed mental images of various events. Thus, he sympathized
with the mysterious fate of Cecilia Metella (civ-cv) as he
brooded over his personal woes. The critic cited the poetic
use of famous names aligned with historical ruins to comment
on personal problems. In this self-indulgence the poet
emphasized the restrictions of the imagination when he asso
ciated Tasso as a spokesman for freedom with the decline of
Venice under tyranny (xvi-xvii); also, according to Pafford,
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he praised Michaelangelo, Alfieri, Galileo and Machiavelli
as creative intellects and ranked Dante, Petrarch and Boccac
cio above the richest princes of Florence (Ix). Furthermore,
in Rome Byron resurrected the memory of Cicero, Virgil and
Livy (Ixxxii), and Caesar superseded Napoleon (xc) as a fig
ure of accomplishment. Also, as further proof of Byron's
transcendence, the critic recalled how St. Peter's stimulat
ed an aesthetic response of overwhelming wonder and a poetic
insight of psychological transcendence (civ); in the Laocoon
(clx), Byron reconciled opposites of the essence of art and
the beauty of feeling; in the Apollo Belvedere, he envisioned
a perfect blending of human and divine (clxii-clxiii). Even
though Byron defined ideal love, Pafford declared that the
poet never resolved the tension between illusions of the
imaginative mind and his own poignant memories and feelings.
As Byron described the ruins of Rome, which should suggest
forgetting personal woes, the poet contemplated his own past
and rejected the imagination as a comfort to mortal man.
Pafford saw this rationalism echoing throughout Byron's poe
try whenever he focused on problems of the mind. Although,
as the critic stated, reason sounded a clear voice, Byron
felt seductively tempted to follow imagination and to ideal
ize rather than surrender to reality. Pafford contended
that Byron's fascination with Italy showed in the poetry of
Canto IV, but Hobhouse served as the agent responsible for
recreating the historical scenes that stimulated Byron's
82
brooding imagination; however, Hobhouse received no credit
as the creative force behind Canto IV.
As a matter of course. Romantic age idealism resulted in
a renewed humanistic concern about the perfection of man
and society. Byron naively believed in the ideals of this
concept even though he erratically wavered between hope and
despair. Edward Bostetter, in 1963, examined the poetic
voice in Canto IV and reached several conclusions about By
ron' s personal convictions about humanism (using a new jar
gon to recast the same old salmagundi). Although the poet
questioned both religion and philosophy, Bostetter labeled
Calvinism's doctrines on depravity and predestination as
basic and inconsistent influences on Byron's thinking. Ac
cording to the critic, the poet vacillated from Calvinism
to deism, to pantheism, to Platonism, to Catholicism, and
back to deism. He concluded that an acceptance of human
ism led the poet to an unending quest for a benevolent socie
ty and an ordered universe that he never found. However,
Byron's acute awareness of man's hypocrisy, and his sensi
tivity to rational answers, led Bostetter to conclude that
Byron never believed for any length of time in his own con
victions. A further critical deduction concerned Byron's
extraordinary understanding of human nature and his compul
sive introspection. According to Bostetter, when Byron found
the universe meaningless and his world a mass of contradic
tions, he attempted to reshape his own world by symbolic
83
projections of himself into various aspects of the external
world. Also, because suffering stimulated creativity in the
poet, he used poetry as a medium for brooding over his own
personal experiences and man's imperfections. Thus, accord
ing to Bostetter, he pronounced his curse of forgiveness
(which degenerated into negative sentimentality) as he mulled
over the discrepancy between idealism and reality in love.
The critic pointed out the poet's brooding voice of disil
lusionment (cxxii, cxxiv, and cxxvii); but, in the apostrophe
to the ocean, Byron admitted man's puniness and through this
fundamental vision identified with the power symbolized by
the ocean. Through this, according to Bostetter, Byron para
doxically found a philosophical means for affirming his exis
tence. Once again, a twentieth-century scholar applied a new
set of idioms to the previous century's ideas and created a
small ripple of new meaning.
In a further refinement of specialization, a critical
technique originating in the 1950's offered one more perspec
tive from which to examine Byron's poetry. Many outstanding
scholars joined forces to make the formalistic critical
m ethod a dominant influence in interpreting literary works.
This method disregarded all elements of biography or history,
all psychological implications and every other factor except
the shape and effect achieved through imagery and metaphori
cal statements. By this standard, form alone preserved sub
stance. The formalists insisted that any literary work was
84
an autonomous creation, so what a work meant and how that
meaning was achieved became the two primary factors for crit
ical consideration. Of course, these critics sensitively
examined the denotations and connotations of every reference
or allusion; they looked for structural relationships between
words, grammatical patterns, and specific images. Supposed
ly, these internal features revealed the external form, and
the work's meaning arose from the interrelationship of these
elements. In their absorption with details, these critics
often undervalued poetry that did not readily respond to
this approach. Only one formalistic critic attempted to deal
with Byron's philosophical meditations, and he did so jest
ingly. Using organicism (the analogy between a living
organism and a literary work), Bernard Blackstone (1971)
humorously evaluated the complexity of spatio-temporal pat
terns in the canto using an analogy of a free-swimming
jellyfish expanding and contracting. He examined Byron's
use of rhetorical devices as an organizing principle that
dramatically expanded the meaning of the poem. According to
Blackstone, the poet always related to his environment, and
in Italy he summed up his insights by focusing on the eter
nity dimension that he lived out in the historical ruins.
The critic cited the Coliseum and St. Peter's passages as
examples of classical perfection; specifically, in the dying
gladiator sculpture, an "ideogram," the poet distanced
himself from the ruins of his personal world, and used the
85
Coliseum, a "greater ideogram" (16), to identify with the
suffering of the gladiator. Blackstone further declared that
in the blend of architecture and nature, the poet created the
eternal dimension of past-present and personal-universal. As
he transmuted the eternity dimension into the physical world
surrounding him (particularly in the Forum passage, according
to the critic), he moved through the medusan rhythm of the
jellyfish.
In a more mundane but still unique approach, Harold
Bloom used Jungian concepts to analyze Canto IV. He cited
the archetypal motif of the quest with the hero as an
archetypal "Pilgrim of Eternity" (237) seeking immortality.
According to Bloom, Byron turned to art in the Apollo
Belvedere as an image of "aesthetic immortality" (237). Yet
Bloom also considered the pilgrim-poet as a mythic figure
representing the condition of modern man in Europe "in the
Age of Metternich" (234). Byron had been fascinated with
Italy from a young age and Rome was the pilgrim's goal. Yet
when the poet found his voice in Rome, his "litany" became
introspective meditations "obsessed" with "disease, death,
bondage" (236). According to Bloom, in the midst of time
less art and beauty, Byron could express the conflict he felt
between his Calvinist teachings and his Rousseauan vision.
Bloom cited several stanzas demonstrating Byron's creative
vision and energetic imagination (cxxvi, cxxxvii). Also,
according to Bloom, the poet deliberately produced a theme
86
of spiritual emptiness by philosophizing on the bonds of
mortality and sin. Bloom legitimately found other Jungian
concepts in the immortality that Byron saw in the Promethean
vitality of the literary artist (clxiii quoted) and the
spiritual renewal found in the beauty of the ocean as the
poet bid farewell to the weary pilgrim (clxxxvi quoted).
Certainly these twentieth-century scholars added
new insights into Byron's artistic life and personality
as they integrated refined analytical techniques with modern
psychological principles, explored the underlying signif
icance of various expressions, and expanded a reader's under
standing of the poetic emotions and mental reactions
expressed in Canto IV. Most of their conclusions could be
confirmed through other Byronic utterances, particularly the
poet's letters. However, modern critics missed one facet of
extreme significance to a complete interpretation of Canto
IV, namely the underlying relationship between Byron and
Hobhouse. Byron clearly delineated his affection and respect
for his friend in the preface to Canto IV (and this
expression also can be verified through letters and
journals). Surely this specifically detailed affirmation of
the depth and breadth of the association would have an inter
pretative bearing on Canto IV. A secondary aspect pertinent
to the preface further intensified and confirmed its
unaffected sincerity--Byron expressed this sentiment for
the person who knew to the nth degree about his philandering
87
and who rejected his lecherous lifestyle. Without a mutual
devoted willingness to forego confrontations, either Byron or
Hobhouse could have shattered the prospects for an outstand
ing masterpiece, such as Canto IV with its perceptive
historical notes and striking travelogue qualities.
From early schooldays onward, Byron had trusted
Hobhouse's sound judgment, scrupulous integrity, candid
criticism, and uncompromising devotion. Hobhouse had a great
gift for friendship, but he never formed such a familiar
intimacy with another person after Byron's death. He
lucidly detailed his own affection for the poet in soliciting
a place of honor for Byron in Westminster Abbey as he
acknowledged his friend's vices and applauded his virtues.
Hobhouse's one major folly relative to Byron occurred when he
destroyed the poet's memoirs without reading them; jealously
he sought to guard Byron's reputation by concealing secrets
that might reflect unjustly on his memory and posthumous
fame.
Byron's contemporary critics lacked these documents and
worked in a vacuum compared to the flood of material relevant
to Canto IV and available to modern commentators. However,
Hobhouse had already acquired a literary reputation from the
popular success of his travelogue related to Canto I and II.
As a result, contemporary critics could not deliberately
ignore his textual supplement for Canto IV, but they did
negate his influence and contribution when they refused to
88
credit the volume's validity as a beneficial complement to
the poetic expressions. Perhaps this set the context for
twentieth-century reviewers neglecting and rejecting the
Illustrations. If one accepted this theory, then the
rejection of specific journal entries or letters would become
more acceptable. By no means could one excuse modern commen
tators for their failure to investigate, but one might
believe that it resulted from a literary concept of avoiding
and neglecting any text outside of the poem itself. While
this type of criticism did serve a purpose with some literary
works, it could never fully explicate an artistic creation
with Canto IV*s history and explanatory supplements. In
addition, any psychological elucidation of reactive expres
sions that did not include relationships pertinent to its
composition would always miss part of the poem's meaning.
This concept came to light for Hobhouse in Florence when he
marvelled that Alfieri's "bastard" widow [mistress] received
more honor as a dead poet's beloved than she did as the wife
of a surviving prince. Before beginning the cooperative
composition process, he recognized that relationships did
control poetic utterances. Surely modern psychological
critics would be the first to deny the authenticity of
another's comments if he negated effective relationships
that influenced a literary work. Yet by default, they have
done exactly that by overlooking Hobhouse's contribution to
the subject matter and his control of the stanzaic formation
89
in Canto IV and by rejecting Byron's own statement about this
influential and beneficial companionship.
Of course, if the relationship had been less sincere or
devoted, Byron's commitment to dissipation along with his
disinterest in continuing the poetic pilgrimage would have
doomed any coherent expression. His letters clearly depicted
the emotional agony he endured at this stage of his life, and
suggested his quest to escape through dissipation. Also,
Byron previously had expressed a detached concern for rubble
and ruins of the classical past. Therefore, it seems reason
able to surmise that only Hobhouse' s probing intellect and
stabilizing influence (rather than an acquired appreciation
for Roman or Venetian ruins at this time of personal
upheaval) precipitated Byron's inclusion of so many classical
structures and monuments in Canto IV. Today or in any
historical period, if one compared the subject matter of
Canto IV with its explanatory text Illustrati ons, one would
find a marvelous affirmation of cooperative enterprise
between these two literary figures, and an inquisitive
reader would increasingly enjoy plumbing the depths of both
the poem and the relationship that so markedly effected
the canto's total configuration.
CHAPTER IV
POETS AND PRELATES
Canto IV opened with some of the most famous and famili
ar lines in English poetry: "I stood in Venice, on the Bridge
of Sighs;/ A palace and a prison on each hand." Critics and
scholars have examined these lines and the rest of the canto
from every perspective of language and thought except the
original one intended by Byron. Although Byron eloquently
expressed his deepest feelings and temperamental moods in
poetry, he wrote Canto IV as a tourist reporting on the
sights he had seen and how he reacted to the various scenic
displays. Even though any reader could recreate the calendar
and retrace the itinerary of his trek through Italy, the
important account of the journey lay in Canto IV, along with
the extensive notes and explanatory text for the canto. By
ron arranged the poetry to correspond with his route across
mountains into little traveled and remote areas where the
"pestilent" Englishmen--"a parcel of staring boobies" (Mar
chand 5. 187)--did not interfere with the pilgrimage. In
Illustrati ons. Hobhouse detailed additional reports
pertaining to the area that he traversed. One of the first
characteristics of the Italy both came to know was the
jealousy with which every mountain village guarded its claim
to some famous historical or literary figure. Hobhouse
asserted that every settlement had an altar or shrine honor
ing the birth, death, or abode of a renowned person. He
90
91
continued by describing how rival towns fervently competed,
both to attract the occasional European pilgrim and to pre
serve for posterity the special recognition for their heroes.
Even the lowliest citizens took pride in noteworthy people
associated with their locality, and tenderly identified them
as "our" Ariosto, Tasso, etc. (JH 2). Byron implied this
same swaggering attitude that Hobhouse so clearly defined:
X X X i :
They keep his [Petrarch's] dust in Arqua, where he
died; The mountain-village where his latter days
Went down the vale of years; and 'tis their pride--
An honest pride--and let it be their praise.
To offer to the passing stranger's gaze
His mansion and his sepulchre;
In a series of stanzas recording their visit to the
remote village of Ferrara, Byron suggested what Hobhouse
again clarified--two reasons for Ferrara's notoriety. It
gained fame as the patriarchial home of the Este family and
scandalous infamy for persecuting perhaps the greatest poet
ancient Italy ever produced, Torquato Tasso.
XXXV
Ferrara! in thy wide and grass-grown streets.
Whose symmetry was not for solitude,
There seems as ' twere a curse upon the seats
Of former sovereigns, and the antique brood
Of Este, which for many an age made good
92
Its strength within thy walls, and was of yore
Patron or tyrant, as the changing mood
Of petty power impell'd, of those who wore
The wreath which Dante's brow alone had worn before.
One must consult Hobhouse to find that Ferrara claimed
both of the great poets Ariosto and Tasso. Citing the auth
oritative biographers of Tasso, the Englishman stated that
the Italian poet arrived in Ferrara in 1565 to find a city
thronged with "all forms of gaiety and splendour" ( HT. 28).
At that time, the populace prospered from construction work
on a canal leading to the Po, and from a saltpetre manufac
turing concern. In 1817, however, the Englishmen found only
a few paupers removing the grass that grew in the streets.
Hobhouse continued the explication that added depth and
insight to various poetic denotations. For instance, the
"curse" mentioned by Byron lay in the treacherous betrayal
and persecution of Tasso along with the infamous relationship
between Tasso and Ariosto. In fact, Tasso' s biographer and
friend, Manso, considered the poet a victim of treachery from
his own household, especially Horatio Ariosto, the poet's
great nephew and rival court poet (and creator of Orlando
Furioso). After scanning Hobhouse' s account of the affair,
a reader found much more purpose in the poetic expression as
Byron continued. And if the reader recalled Byron' s own
93
exile, he could imagine a sympathetic chord in the strains of
praise for a fellow poet suffering unjust persecution:
xxxvi
And Tasso is their glory and their shame.
Hark to his strain! and then survey his cell!
And see how dearly earn'd Torquato's [Tasso] fame
And where Alfonso bade his poet dwell:
The miserable despot could not quell
The insulted mind he sought to quench, and blend
With the surrounding maniacs, in the hell
Where he had plung'd it.
As tourists, both Englishmen visited the "cell," and
Hobhouse proceeded to depict the precise measurements and
exact location of a dungeon chamber in St. Anna's Hospital,
Ferrara. Hobhouse reported that long before officials ar
ranged for an inscribed plaque over the chamber's door, leg
end and tradition identified the cell as Tasso's. In 1817,
souvenir hunters had removed every vestige of the poet's
furniture--a small piece at a time--and were in the process
of destroying the door to the room, a small sliver at a time.
In succeeding stanzas, Byron pursued the subject of
Tasso and Alphonso, and the explanatory text continued to
closely follow the poetic expression. Hobhouse traced the
influence and power of the Este family, and explored various
reasons for the imprisonment of Tasso. First, he cited
Manso who specified Tasso*s passion for Princess Leonora of
94
the Este family as the cause of confinement. The vengeful
Duke, who took the Princess for his mistress, imprisoned
Tasso when scandal developed about the poet's affair with the
Duke' s beloved.
Not satisfied with this report, Hobhouse delved into
Abate Serassi's report dated 1785, which used actual docu
ments from the Este archives. These confirmed that Tasso
wanted to be free from servitude to Alphonso. Amid rumors
that he was seeking a new master, and in spite of the Duchess
of Urbino advising him not to, Tasso left the Este court for
Rome during the jubilee of 1575. But he never got there.
Alerted by conspirators that the poet wanted a new patron, the
duke detained Tasso at Ferrara, confiscated his manuscript of
Jerusalem, and refused to return it. Enraged by the treach
ery, Tasso scuffled with a member of the court and pulled a
knife on him. Supposedly for this, Alphonso denied him
access to the manuscript, and refused to let him have an
audience with other members of the court. Seeing himself
abandoned by friends and mocked by enemies, Tasso began to
eat and drink to excess, and immoderately cursed the Duke and
the house of Este. Publicly retracting the verses of praise
he had written earlier, Tasso angrily declared that the
entire house of princes was a "gang of poltroons, ingrates,
and scoundrels" (18). According to the Abate, this offense
led to his arrest and confinement as a madman.
Continuing the summary from Manso and other biographers.
95
Hobhouse recounted the conspiracy, with the intriguers bent
on proving Tasso*s insanity and their betrayal of him serving
as an emblem of loyalty to their Este sovereign Prince
Alphonso. Hobhouse implied that with Tasso's love of freedom
and dread of solitude, no punishment could so effectively
break his spirit as solitary confinement. In addition, the
Duke repeatedly promised liberation, but for seven years Tas
so endured the deplorable imprisonment. Although the poet
did not flourish in prison, he expectantly awaited justice
from the Este sovereign, and occasionally his creative genius
shone through the gloom of seclusion. Hobhouse recounted how
Tasso poetically reminded his fellow villagers that an uncon-
quered spirit still persevered in the misfortune and injus
tice of confinement while literary pirates greedily competed
to publish his every composition, even unfinished ones.
Citing the biographers, Hobhouse related how authorities
finally heeded the persistent intercession of the Duke of
Mantua in December 1580, and moved Tasso to larger and more
comfortable quarters. Although Alphonso confined him for
seven years, allegedly for madness, Hobhouse referred the
inquiring reader to Gibbon's characterizaion of Muratori,
librarian for the Duke, who declared that Tasso was not in
sane. However, the librarian reflected that a poet loyal to
his patron prince did not serve well if "his first and para
mo unt object" was "the establishment of truth" (9).
Hobhouse credited the Prince of Mantua with repeated
96
intercessions that finally resulted in securing Tasso' s free
dom. Nonetheless, the Prince demanded that Tasso purchase
his freedom with poetry and, like Alphonso, the Prince con
fiscated the manuscript. He considered the composition of
Jerusalem Deli vered a pledge of Tasso' s attachment to his
court. Although he gave the poet a small sum of money and a
few new clothes to be worn in the court, he kept the manu
script and surreptitiously published it. Like the Duke of
Este, the Prince considered Tasso's poetic genius a personal
property to be jealously guarded.
While Byron lamented in stanza iii that "In Venice
Tasso's echoes are no more,/ And silent rows the songless
gondolier," Hobhouse clarified the connotative significance
of the poetry. The gondoliers' traditional songs came from
Tasso's poem Jerusalem. When Venice lost its independence,
the boatmen quit singing strophes from the poem. Hobhouse
recorded that in 1817 only the older gondoliers even remem
bered the familiar stanzas.
Without the explanation from Hi stori cal 111ustrati ons
how could any modern reader interpret Byron's forceful con
demnation when he related how glory attended Tasso*s name, but
Alfonso* s xxxvi1
Would rot in its oblivion--in the sink
Of worthless dust, which from thy boasted line
Is shaken into nothing; but the link
Thou formest in his fortunes bids us think
97
Of thy poor malice, naming thee with scorn--
Alfonso! how thy ducal pageants shrink
From thee! If in another station born.
Scarce fit to be the slave of him thou mad'st to mourn;
xxxvi i i
Thou! form' d to eat, and be despis'd, and die,
Even as the beasts that perish, save that thou
Hadst a more splendid trough and wider sty:
Although many educated readers probably knew the legend,
Hobhouse explained that the Duke of Este, Alfonso, outlived
the affection and loyalty of his subjects, even his depen
dents. By the time he died, the Church had excommunicated
him and his heirs had deserted him, leaving him to be in
terred without princely honor or even a decent burial rite.
Continuing to expound on Italy's famous literary fig
ures, Hobhouse enlarged on this poetic expression from stanza
liv:
In Santa Croce's holy precincts lie
Ashes which make it holier, dust which is
Even itself an immortality, . . . here repose
Angelo' s, Alfieri' s bones, and his.
The starry Galileo, with his woes;
Here Machiavelli' s earth, return' d to whence it rose.
The notes explained that Santa Croce was the mecca of Italy,
the burial place of an assortment of world famous figures.
98
Adding to the notes but not repeating them, Hobhouse recorded
several anecdotes about Count Alfieri's haughty irascibility.
On one occasion, Alfieri had gone to a formal tea and acci
dentally broken a cup. When his hostess moaned that he had
spoiled the set and might as well break the entire service,
Alfieri did just that--he pushed the entire set onto the
floor (32). On another occasion, a lady seated behind the
poet in the theater admired his long auburn curls. To her
surprise, the following morning a messenger arrived with a
package containing his shorn locks. Hobhouse included other
anecdotes, but these demonstrated both the temperamental and
impulsive nature of Alfieri (a nature usually associated with
an artistic genius), and also the kind of legends Italians
treasured about literary figures whom they idealized. Hob
house described Alfieri's tomb sculpted by a contemporary,
Canova--a badly placed, top-heavy monument projecting into
the church aisle. An oversize plaque identifying Alfieri's
patron. Princess Stolberg, dwarfed the inscription honoring
the poet.
When tourists left Santa Croce, they traveled through
striking scenic displays of nature's grandeur. In diary en
tries Hobhouse repeatedly raved about the exquisite majesty
and spectacular beauty in the natural terrain. Although Hob-
house's constrained sense of propriety tempered his utteran
ces, Byron the Romantic was "dazzled and drunk with beauty"
( 1) , and showed no inhibitions months later when he wrote
99
about the scenic majesty in a subjectively artistic reaction.
He poetically retraced the tour to the headwaters of the
Clitumnus River and acclaimed the beauty of the crystal clear
mountain stream to be particularly intoxicating after passing
through the sadly historic battlefield of Thrasimene.
Thrasimene was
Ixi i i
Like to a forest fell'd by mountain winds;
And such the storm of battle on this day,
. . . [such the] carnage that, beneath the fray.
An earthquake reel'd unheededly away!
On that day, blood ran so profusely that it "made the earth
wet, and turn'd the unwilling waters red" (Ixv). On the
other hand, the Clitumnus stream rhymically spoke of the
tranquillity of meditation with its "finny darter with the
glittering scales," and its scattered water lily blooms.
Byron called it "the prettiest little stream in all poesy"
and caught "some famous trout . . . close to the temple by
its banks" (Marchand 5.233). He depicted the peaceful
environment and included the temple in his poetic descrip-
ti on; Ixvi
But thou, Clitumnus! in thy sweetest wave
Of the most living crystal that was e'er
The haunt of river nymph . . .
. . . the purest god of gentle waters!
100
And most serene of aspect, and most clear;
Surely that stream was unprofaned by slaughters
Ixvi i
And on thy happy shore a temple still.
Of small and delicate proportion, keeps.
Upon a mild declivity of hill.
Its memory of thee; beneath it sweeps
Thy current's calmness; oft from out it leaps
The finny darter with the glittering scales
Who dwells and revels in thy glassy deeps;
While the Romantic poet responded to the muse that in
spired Virgil, Claudian, Pliny and untold others, Hobhouse
mundanely responded by factually tracing the river to its
source in the nearby mountains of Spoleto. He also recalled
the ancient historical tradition of the Clitumnus as a holy
stream celebrated for its beauty and consulted for its ora
cle. He described the remains of the ancient temple which
still stood when he passed the site in 1817. Fish scales,
sculpted on the antique columns, still alluded to the river
god honored by the structure, and in 1817 the mountain people
still held annual festivals honoring their river god.
According to Hobhouse, after an earthquake partially
destroyed the ancient temple in 446, the Catholic Church
confiscated it from the mountain people under the guise of
repairing it. The Church built a small chapel nearby, which
contained some fragments and carved moldings from the ruined
101
edifice. Hobhouse cited church historians who claimed that
two bishops and a friar removed columns and marble statuary
from the temple and sold them to the count of Trevi for his
private chapel. Hobhouse charged that the same greedy friar
also destroyed part of the ancient oracle's underground cell
in a search for fancied buried treasure. The Englishman
recorded several defaced but legible names carved on the sub
terranean roof--"Septimius, Plebeius" (42), etc. --of people
who had consulted the ancient oracle. After this explanation
about the ancient temple "of small and delicate proportion,"
a modern reader could envision Coleridge's metaphor of Hob
house adding flesh to the "dry bones" of Byron's poetry.
As curious travelers neared Rome, they tried to see
every fragmented aqueduct and arch, and Hobhouse depicted
the topography mile by mile. The Englishman threaded his
way through wooded plains and rolling hills; he traversed
pine forests of thick evergreens, and crossed the Campagna
and Tiber rivers. Finally, the gates of the city became
visible. During the last fifteen miles, tourists saw
magnificent gardens and luxurious villas on the city's out
skirts. In the suburbs, wide paved streets passed between
summer houses and vineyard gateways with impressive Latin
inscriptions over them. These inscriptions, and beggars ask
ing alms in Latin, reminded classically educated tourists of
Rome's historical significance and widespread moral influ
ence. Hobhouse did not cite a personal experience, but he
102
cautioned the casual traveler to practice extreme care in
evaluating the antiques available in markets, especially near
Rome where most antiques were genuine fakes. He also warned
the discreet tourist against placing complete confidence in
any of the guide books related to Italy, but granted that
every astute traveler soon developed a natural skepticism as
a result of the population's "national inclination to fable"
(45) and deception. On the other hand, Byron indicated his
general unconcern for historical accuracy by repeatedly
recommending (in his letters) the guidebooks for descriptions
of various structures.
He reluctantly visited Rome but, as a result of viewing
sites familiar to him from school days, he poetically pro
claimed Rome the "Mother of Arts" and "Parent of our Reli
gion! whom the wide/ Nations have knelt to for the keys of
heaven!" (xlvii). Byron knew classical and Italian history
but lacked the expansive knowledge of his friend. As an
antiquarian and Italian Renaissance scholar, Hobhouse asso
ciated the legendary and historical sites with their classi
cal significance. Nevertheless, when Byron recalled the
Roman scene, from both his head and his heart came the
inspired expressions: Ixxvi i i
Oh Rome! my country! city of the soul!
The orphans of the heart must turn to thee.
Lone mother of dead empires! . . .
Come and see
103
The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way
0'er steps of broken thrones and temples.
As a result of the magnitude of ruins, Byron expressed
awe over the "crush'd relics" that "Time hath not rebuilt."
In fact, both Englishmen obviously felt for "fair Ital
reverent fascination which Byron clearly indicated:
y" a
XXVI
Thou art the garden of the world, the home
Of all Art yields, and Nature can decree;
Even in thy desart, what is like to thee?
Thy very weeds are beautiful, thy waste
More rich than other climes' fertility;
Thy wreck a glory, and thy ruin graced
With an immaculate charm which cannot be defaced.
Although Byron poetically detailed specific destructive
forces (in one verse) that acted through endless ages to lay
waste to this land of former glory, one must consult Hobhouse
to find the extended connotative significance in that single
verse: Ixxx
The Goth, the Christian, Time, War, Flood, and Fire,
Have dealt upon the seven-hill' d city's pride;
She saw her glories star by star expire,
And up the steep barbarian monarchs ride,
, . . far and wide
104
Temple and tower went down, nor left a site:--
Chaos of ruins! who shall trace the void,
. . . And say, "here was, or is"?
Deliberately following the order cited by Byron, Hob
house devoted a lenghty chapter to clarifying the riddle pro
posed as causes for the poet's "marble wilderness" and to de
tailing the eons of history in the destruction of Rome by:
"the Goth, the Christian, Time, War, Flood and Fire." Once
again, he resorted to research among texts by ancient and
reputable historians for authentic confirmation. Hobhouse
mentioned several ancient architects, including Marcellinus,
Procopius, Cassiodorus and Olympiodorus who described the
ravage and destruction by Goths and Visigoths. Among the
many ecclesiastical authors available, Hobhouse relied on
church historian Donatus as the specialist on church con
struction during the early days of Christianity, and on
Anastasius as an authority on papal activity. A modern
historical scholar could scarcely duplicate the authenticated
names, dates and events that the Englishman reproduced.
Hobhouse especially relied on Procopius and Cassiodorus
for a description of the devastation by Alaric and the Goths,
Genserick and the Vandals, as well as Ricimer, Vitiges, Toti-
la and numerous other invaders (whom only a historian could
appreciate). By following the detailed accounts, Hobhouse
retraced centuries of invasions when every marauder de
spoiled, destroyed, burned, ravaged and looted, leaving
105
behind a wasteland of ruins that included destroyed aque
ducts, baths and temples. Once ornaments had been removed
from above ground, plunderers tore up lead conduits searching
for buried treasures. Through the ages, this repeated plun
der of monuments and architectural decorations, both public
and private structures, emptied the city of its wealth.
Hobhouse openly expressed his highest admiration for Rome's
magnificent human accomplishments in its age of glory, and
condemned the destructive indulgence of "Barbarians, Arians,
and Infidels" (66)--that is, Byron's all inclusive "Goth."
As Hobhouse proceeded to clarify Byron's "Christian" as
a destructive force, he cited a Tuscan historian and friend
of Tasso (Angelio Pietro da Barga) , who asserted that Goths
and Vandals actually did less damage to public buildings than
Christians did. In spite of the ravage left behind by bar
barians, Hobhouse agreed that historians confirmed that
Christian clergy did paradoxically destroy more complete
ly and fanatically than any of the invaders. Historians
generally affirmed that this devastation appeared in two
forms--first, in dismantling ancient relics to repair or re
build other structures; and second, in a radical destruction
of pagan edifices and ornaments as the clergy concentrated on
building churches from the materials unearthed on the exact
sites of pagan structures. Using specific examples, Hobhouse
recounted how the Church confiscated materials to decorate
the tombs of Christian martyrs. Also, he recorded how
106
superstition combined with ignorance and necessity during
this era to make the veneration of apostles the true test of
patriotism and cited several reports of the Church distorting
pagan deities to Christian saints. For example, Romulus
(with all of his specific qualities) became St. Theodo re
(with the identical virtues of the pagan god), and Mars
reemerged as St. Martina. Also, the superstitious clergy
attached fables to the sites of confiscated relics.
Hobhouse recorded one particularly interesting story of a
fountain springing up on the site of a jailer's baptism by
an apostle confined in the Mamertine dungeon.
Marveling that any relic of antiquity had survived, he
detailed how Christians methodically destroyed temple statues
and idols along with porticos and baths. He voiced the con
clusion that early popes did little except build churches at
the expense of ancient structures. However, he charged the
lower clergy with destroying and stealing more than the
pontiffs as they led Christians to loosely interpret the law
that forbade destroying pagan edifices. This laxity allowed
them to embellish their religious structures with remnants
of the ancient buildings. In this kind of sanctioned de
struction, zealots enthusiastically broke idols and pulled
down ancient structures. The sacrilege of destroying nation
al treasures (such as the ancient temple on the banks of the
Clitumnus) was only one of the ploys the Church used to gain
control of past history and to brainwash the people. In
107
Illustrati ons Hobhouse related many such blasphemous deeds,
reported by credible and official ecclesiastical sources. He
maintained a relatively objective historical tone, but his
language denoted a subjective response that the reader sensed
as an underlying disapproval or disenchantment with the
Catholic religion. As a genuinely concerned archivist, he
resented the widespread destruction in the name of religion.
As a nominal Protestant, his faith looked to a transcendent
deity rather than to physical artifacts for its substantia-
t i on.
Continuing to highlight the destructive influence of
Byron's "Christians," he reconstructed the history of zealots
ravaging every sarcophagus in their prowl for relics. He
also related how they dumped burial ashes found in ancient
mausoleums and unscrupulously unearthed bodies, removed urns
and precious materials from tombs, devastating graves in the
search for ornaments buried with the dead. Hobhouse subtly
ridiculed the despoilers' ignorance of the meaning implied by
sarcophagi decorated with mythological sculptures. These
were transported whole to basilicas or churches and both Pope
Clement XII and Innocent II lay in marble slabs previously
occupied by heathen bodies. Hobhouse reported viewing the
memorial plaque of a bishop interred in a stone coffin with
pagan marriage bas reliefs carved on its surface. While "the
bones and ashes of emperors" (176) had been dispersed in the
wind, less pure ashes had been preserved.
108
Byron recalled a mythic legend at a specific sepulchre
as he also discoursed on this unholy emptying of graves:
Ixxi X
The Niobe of nations! there she stands.
Childless and crownless, in her voiceless woe;
An empty urn within her withered hands,
Whose holy dust was scatter'd long ago;
The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now;
The very sepulchres lie tenantless
Of their heroic dwellers . . . .
Hobhouse recalled how, after years of searching, anti
quarians discovered and identified Scipio's tomb in 1780. He
elaborated on the eloquent family inscriptions inside the
sarcophagus of Barbatus Scipio that told more about the
virtues of style and language in ancient Rome than Livy did.
Of course, Livy was his absolute authority if historians
could not agree about ancient Rome and its ruins, and he
examined his personal copy at every ruin or monument. He
conceded that antiquarians disputed about every object exca
vated or discovered and expressed approval for using convict
labor in excavations as he encouraged others to follow the
Duchess of Devonshire's example of financing such digs.
Plodding through the ages century by century, Hobhouse
laboriously recited minute details from historical sources
available in the Vatican and other papal libraries that
confirmed the vandalism, ravage and demolition by "the
109
Christian." Tragically, vandalism sanctioned by papal decree
resulted in organized destruction that Church historians
confirmed. However, in a fourth-century inventory, Pope
Valentine could still record twelve pages (in double columns)
naming public monuments. Hobhouse accepted this inventory
as concrete proof of the former glory and beauty in the
eternal city. Byron considered them "wrecks of another
world, whose ashes still are warm" (xlvi). Several fourth-
century historians also verified that during the reign of
Constantine, Rome's architectural wonders still astounded
and fascinated visitors.
Nevertheless, Hobhouse named Constantine as the most
successful of all plunderers; he sold so-called pagan idols
and statues, changed the purpose of many public structures
to accomodate the new state religion, and despoiled monuments
and arches for use in churches, monasteries and other build
ings dedicated to the new religion. Yet, this kind of devas
tation also became a preservation. A thousand years after
this despoliation, Byron and Hobhouse viewed Leda and the
Swan still ornamenting the bronze doors of St. Peter's, and
Proserpine's pomegranates still decorating the altar at St.
Agnes.
Hobhouse also detailed the additional devastation of
Constantine when he established Constantinople as the seat
of Roman emperors. Many leading families followed his move
and left behind their empty palaces, which fell into decay
110
as lack of repair and upkeep hastened their deterioration.
In addition, the emigrants carried many of the best trophies
and ornaments with them, further depleting the national trea
sure of ancient relics. Although edicts in the fourth centu
ry outlawed removing lead, brass and iron from abandoned
buildings, those rebuilding houses had little recourse except
plundering habitations deserted by former residents. As the
various public structures declined, private individuals razed
them, and transported columns and marbles from one city to
another for use in new buildings. Byron called it by its
real name, devastation: "The world hath rear'd cities from
out their sepulchres" (Ixxxix). As Hobhouse so aptly
implied, public policy decreed not to restore, but to
pillage the deteriorating monuments and buildings. Certain
ly, as he stated, a wretched population struggling for mere
existence could not be expected to respect trophies of former
grandeur. Or as Byron bewailed: "Alas! the lofty city! and
alas! . . ./ Alas for Tully's voice, and Virgil's lay,/ And
Livy's pictur' d page!. . . all besi de--decay" (Ixxxii).
Hobhouse recalled the Justinian Code of the fourth cen
tury that referred to an Old and a New Rome as it indicated
ruins for which the Senate refused to appropriate money. The
lack of funds to restore monuments and to maintain public
buildings hastened the spoil of ancient structures and added
to the dilapidation caused by ages of neglect and decay as
general unconcern conspired with forces of nature to destroy
Ill
every piece left by marauders. As sculptures lay where they
fell, silt buried the remains and only buried relics escaped
looters. An additional factor in national despair came from
the emperor's living in Constantinople, and viewing Rome as
a special domain to be exploited, not protected or helped.
Continuing a lenghty analysis of the Christian's de
struction, Hobhouse recalled that popes assumed rule over
the city in the absence of emperors. Much to the credit of
the pontiffs involved, he confirmed that once religious
history became Rome's history, a reconstruction program be
gan. During peacetime, pontiffs forced the people to rebuild
the city walls and to construct churches and shrines for
martyrs. But as always, the building material could come
from only one place--the deserted ruins. Indeed, papal rule
proved to be a two-edged sword that both preserved and devas
tated. Hobhouse cited numerous examples of the magnificence
of papal courts leading ambitious conquerors to invade and
tyrannize before they plundered. It also led popes to appeal
to emperors to prop their papal regimes in Rome. Were they
"victors of countless kings, or puppets of a scene?"
( Ixxxvi i).
In the ninth century, Leo IX used the protection of
settlers near St. Peter's as an excuse to build a wall around
the Vatican. As apathetic survivors moved to the secure
area, the population became concentrated at opposite sides of
the city with a vast wasteland of deserted ruins between.
112
As Rome once again became a center of power, sieges and
civil protests added to the dilapidation of the old city
while the new city rose in importance. According to Hob
house, "the edifices of old Rome" were lost for two
centuries, but a "regionary" of the ninth century indicated
that a variety of hot baths, monuments, temples, arches and
amphitheaters still survived. Also "the Capitol, the Septi-
zonium of Severus, a Palace of Nero, another attributed to
Pontius Pilate, and a third near Santa Croce in Gerusalemme"
( HI 118) had miraculously escaped destruction (at least for
the inventory). Of course, the statuary and obelisks were
broken or in decay and ruins, but some survived for another
thousand years. During the twelfth and thirteenth centuries,
they still served as landmarks for ecclesiastical pilgrims.
And some still partially survived when Hobhouse and Byron
visited Rome in 1817, and still served as landmarks.
Continuing to trace the destructive bent of popes, Hob
house detailed further demolition-preservation movements as
Gregory III removed columns from ancient structures to
build St. Peter's Cathedral and Hadrian concentrated on
rebuilding the aqueducts from whatever material he could
lay his hands on. Later pontiffs used stones from the
Coliseum to build private palaces; Byron included this bit of
lore in the Coliseum passage: "from its mass,/ Walls,
palaces, half cities, have been reared" (cxliii). Pontiffs
leveled temples, arches, theaters, and forums to widen city
113
streets; they stripped bronze from the Pantheon for the con
fessional at St. Peter's and to make cannon for the castle of
St. Angelo; they used marble from Cecilia Metella' s sepulchre
to build the fountain of Trevi; and they utilized materials
from an ancient bridge to make four hundred cannon balls (to
defend the castle of St. Angelo).
In addition to this and much more cataloging of destruc
tion, Hobhouse recorded a final tragic decimation of "the
Christians" that resulted in irreparable damage. When the
Romans discovered that cement mortar made from white marble
lasted much longer than that made from other stones, no mar
ble fragment was safe. Popes and pontiffs ordered massive
fragments from ruins thrown into the lime kilns and converted
to masonry lime. By the fifteenth century, much of the Coli
seum had been used to make lime, yet as Byron viewed the
structure, he questioned whether it had "been plundered, or
but cleared?" (cxliii). Hobhouse again voiced awe that any
thing survived, and moaned that between the barbarians and
the Catholic religion, there was sufficient cause for little
to remain. However, he reported that miraculously, in spite
of this, religious pilgrims in the sixteenth century still
viewed Roman monuments, fragments, marble blocks and ruins as
the wonder of the civilized world. But in direct contrast,
he picturesquely described how a pope of that time made the
prescribed stations of a ceremonial by picking his way from
ruin to ruin because the entire city lay in such desolation.
114
After appraising the long history of destruction, Hob
house concluded that by the Middle Ages Rome was a city built
with rubble among the ruins of ancient civilizations. He
also rendered a rare judgmental commentary that revealed his
grasp of ancient as well as modern Italian; he asserted that
the language used in describing both the church rituals and
the primitive culture of the period was as crude as invading
barbarians must have been. Hobhouse reported an anecdote
that especially revealed this as another age of ignorance and
superstition. First, he cited a report from the personal
secretary of Pope Eugenius who indicated some of the most
valued religious relics:
It [Rome] has the handkerchief of St. Veronica; it has the place called Domi ne quo vadis, where Christ met St. Peter and left the marks of his feet in the stone. It has the heads of Peter and Paul, the milk of the Virgin, the cradle and foreskin of our Saviour, the chains of St. Peter, the spousal ring sent from heaven to the maiden Agnes. To see, to touch, to venerate all which and many more things, more than fifty thousand strangers from all parts of the world come to Rome at the time of Lent. (151)
Then the scribe reported how a heretic of Bourbon's army
stole the foreskin of Jesus, but miraculously a noble lady
found it in an underground cave and returned it to the Vati
can. Its return was attended by repeated miracles, all
authenticated by the famous ecclesiastical writer Marangoni.
To say the least, Hobhouse proved his point about the
superstition and ignorance of the age.
Of course, as Byron designated, invaders and Christians
did not cause all the destruction. Forces of nature aided by
115
"Time, War, Flood, and Fire" also took a toll in the destruc
tive process of Rome. Hobhouse catalogued wars, fires, civil
wars and riots--with each becoming part of the natural decay
process--and recalled various other problems, also. By mid-
fifth century, the city's population had diminished from
recurring pestilence and famine, yet Rome's wells could not
supply enough water for the city and the ancient aqueducts
remained broken. During the seventh century alone, histori
ans recorded famine, earthquake, plague and five successive
inundations of the Tiber. Each one contributed to the deso
lation of ancient sites and to making life miserable for the
city's residents. Hobhouse recorded how several rulers tried
to deal with the repeated flooding. In spite of efforts to
control the river--August us cleaned it, Trajan deepened it,
and Aurelian built a levee along its banks--later city annals
recorded repeated inundations, which continued to add to the
devastations of time and war. Overall, during the untold
ages of Rome's existence, what neglect did not deface, earth
quake, storms and floods did.
Historical sources also confirmed the destructive in
fluence of "War" on the magnificence of the eternal city.
Hobhouse reported that as the dispute between the Empire
and the Church reached its climax in the eleventh century
the entire nation became embroiled with Rome as the center
of combat between pope and emperor. Encamped armies moved
to fortified places and prepared to attack other partisan
116
forces who occupied private palaces. German immigrant
dukes--"a barbarian tide"--(xlvii) had converted many of
the larger buildings into live-in forts and strongholds. As
Hobhouse reported, these immigrants pretended to descend from
Roman soldiers who had served in the provinces under the
Caesars. They moved their families to Rome where they
claimed Roman citizenship and occupied whole sections of the
city. He named specific families (Frangipani, Orsini, and
numerous others) and described their construction of fort
resses and strongholds on the site of ruins. According to
Byron, "Time hath not rebuilt them, but uprear' d/ Barbaric
dwellings on their shattered site" (xlv). Finally, during
the twelfth century one revolution resulted in a reformation
of the senate.
This particular rebellion began when Pope Paschal II
angered a mob and they assaulted him during a Holy Week
service. Although he escaped, rival families capitalized on
the turmoil and divided the offices of the senate government
so that the Colonni and Orsini families administered both the
criminal and civil justice systems. During this period, ev
ery trace of popular rule was abolished and the baron sena
tors showed their contempt for the Pope by ceremoniously
humiliating him. They carried sacramental vessels on Easter
Sunday, sat on a level with the papal throne during services.
mo nitored the Pope's rulings, and wore robes sporting gold
broc ade on purple (the cardinal's robe) or the multi-fold
117
robes like the Pope's. Eventually ambition and intrigue
doomed the senate rebellion, and popes resumed their power
and revived their despotism. Byron commented on the twisted
state of affairs with pontiffs ruling instead of advising
rulers:
xcv
I speak not of men' s creeds--they rest between
Man and his Maker--but of things allowed,
Averr' d, and known . . .
The yoke that is upon us doubly bowed,
And the intent of tyranny avowed,
The edict of Earth's rulers, who are grown
The apes of him who humbled once the proud,
And shook them from their slumbers on the throne;
According to Hobhouse, the people despised the papal mon
archy as much as they hated the nobility's despotic rule. The
papal contenders also behaved like the power-hungry senators
as they engaged in murder and sedition, inflamed passions and
aligned factions under their mitre. In one struggle between
papal and imperial forces in the thirteenth century, fero
cious battles resulted when Henry VII was crowned and Pope
John refused to submit to Henry. However, eventually the
ongoing contention between the Senate and Vatican led to
the Pope's yielding to the senators and fleeing the city.
Hobhouse recounted how the bishops reigned with a popu
lar government when popes were absent in the fourteenth
118
century. Without a papal yoke, the people's love for liberty
emerged and Rome recovered some of its past magnificence.
Byron interpreted this aspect of history in xcviii:
Thy [Freedom's] tree hath lost its blossoms, and the ri nd,
Chopp'd by the axe, looks rough and little worth.
But the sap lasts,--and still the seed we find
Sown deep . . . .
So shall a better spring less bitter fruit bring forth.
However, government alternated from republican to anarchy and
despotism. Hobhouse recounted the rhythm of Rome's history
from tyranny to freedom in the same cycles that Byron
depi ct ed: CVl 1 1
There is the moral of all human tales;
'Tis but the same rehearsal of the past.
First Freedom, and then Glory--when that fails.
Wealth, vice, corruption,--barbarism at last.
And History, with all her volumes vast.
Hath but one page--, 'tis better written here.
Where gorgeous Tyranny had thus amass'd
All treasures, all delights, that eye or ear.
Heart, soul could seek, tongue ask--
As young people, both Byron and Hobhouse became perma
nently enamored with the democratic principles underlying the
French Revolution, and they never lost their admiration for
them. Hobhouse clearly stated some of his ideals when he
119
philosophized on the glorious freedom of Rome's republican
days versus the servile submissiveness of modern Italians who
felt no compulsion to struggle for freedom. He cited words
from Tacitus and Agricola, among others, relative to indivi
dual dignity. Continuing this perceptive meditation, Byron
also reflected on freedom and Italy in a lengthy passage:
xci i i
Opinion an omnipotence, --whose veil
Mantles the earth with darkness, until right
And wrong are accidents, and men grow pale
Lest their own judgments should become too bright.
And their free thoughts be crimes, and earth have too much light.
xci V
And thus they plod in sluggish misery.
Rotting from sire to son, and age to age.
Proud of their trampled nature, and so die
Bequeathing their hereditary rage
To the new race of inborn slaves, who wage
War for their chains
xcVI11
Yet, Freedom! yet thy banner, torn, but flying,
Streams like the thunder-storm against the wind;
Thy trumpet voice, though broken now and dying.
The loudest still the tempest leaves behind.
120
In the fifteenth century popes were restored, and Hob
house traced the schisms as conflicting factions raged in
struggles between pope and anti-pope, citizen revolts and
revolutions, subjugated people and noblemen senators. All
of these took a toll on surviving monuments and castles.
Church historian Donatus reported that when Pope Urban
VIII rebuilt the city in the seventeenth century, he took an
unheard of step that offered real hope for saving whatever
relics remained. He made it a capital offense to tear down
ruins, and appointed a committee to enforce the law. Then
he immediately contradicted his own mandate by using archi
tectural remains to construct modern buildings. According
to Hobhouse's sources, at the same time various prominent
families adorned their homes with ancient marble slabs,
searched for antique statues to fill their museums, and col
lected fragments of every available type.
Hobhouse understood that historians had to maintain an
objective voice, but some things prompted him to react. In
a strongly judgmental and condemnatory passage, he let his
disbelief and disgust show as he noted the elegant taste and
splendid magnificence in which popes had lived and continued
to live. Also, all through these distressing situations,
Vatican museums displayed without apology their priceless
artifacts of grandeur and glory. The luxurious taste of both
prelate and nobleman supported sculptors who cut statues from
columns, sawed temple marbles into church steps, and robbed
121
empty palaces to adorn churches and shrines. Many remains
from outlying provinces became incorporated into St. Peter's
as baptistry, altar and other embellishments. In disbelief
Hobhouse noted that paradoxically, after all of these cen
turies of ravage and destruction of national monuments,
Romans in 1817 still had no inclination or public means to
protect antiquities from either violence or time's ravages
Chapter V
RUINS AND RELICS
As a severely pedantic historian, Hobhouse had no toler
ance for sloppy research or inaccurate statements by other
historians. Some of his severest criticism concerned three
of his own countrymen who wrote histories of Italy that con
tained erroneous information. He enumerated specific mis
takes of Forsyth and Gibbon in their respective histories,
but jeered at Millin's four volume work that described places
the author had never been and monuments he had never seen.
He also detailed many examples of counterfeit inscrip
tions and errors in other published histories, and again cau
tioned the traveler to discount the exaggerations of contem
porary guide books and the ignorance of tour guides. He con
demned the Church's practice of labeling classical sites
without regard for truth and, in a rare display of humor,
explained how Pope Paschal II totally disregarded credibility
in one instance. In 1103, he issued a Bullari um Romanum
designating a convenient site for Horace's Bandusian fountain
(which inspired one of his famous odes). Paschal fixed the
location, not in the natural geographical locale, but in Hor
ace's birthplace. This explained Byron's tongue-in-cheek
observation: "Then farewell, Horace Yet fare thee
well--upon Soracte's ridge we part" (Ixxvii). Thus the two
travelers took leave of Horace through a papal ruling but,
as men familiar with the ancient poet, they found haunting
122
123
allusions to him in various places. Byron had not appreci
ated schoolboy exercises in translation, but he valued the
odes.
Continuing his account of historical mistakes, Hobhouse
cited specific monuments, tombs, statuaries, and other relics
that in 1817 bore misnomers, forged inscriptions, erroneous
dates and wrong locations. He contended that the identity of
every bust or inscription had to be questioned. While names
and locations remained as dubious in 1817 as at any time, he
ma intained that few structures even existed without reason
able doubts concerning their original function. Neverthe
less, the Coliseum, a number of tombs, mausoleums and arches
seemed correctly identified. Even so, he warned that one
must suspect every inscription, including those that appeared
to be true antiquities. Byron repeated the same idea in
"Chaos of ruins! who shall trace the void,/ O'er the dim
fragments cast a lunar light,/ And say, 'here was, or is,'
where all is doubly night? (Ixxx). He echoed the same uncer
tainty so eloquently as he continued:
Ixxxi
The double night of ages, and of her,
Night's daughter. Ignorance, hath wrapt and wrap
All round us; we but feel our way to err:
The ocean hath his chart, the stars their map.
And knowledge spreads them on her ample lap;
But Rome is as the desart, where we steer
124
Stumbling o'er recollections; now we clap
Our hands, and cry "Eureka!" it is clear--
When but some false mirage of ruin rises near.
xci X
There is a stern round tower of other days.
Firm as a fortress, with its fence of stone.
Such as an army' s baffled strength delays,
Standing with half its battlements alone.
And with two thousand years of ivy grown,
The garland of eternity . . .
What was this tower of strength? within its cave
What treasure lay so lock' d, so hid?-- . . .
cvi i
Cypress and ivy, weed and wallflower grown
Matted and mass' d together, hillock heap' d
On what were chambers, arch crush'd, column strown
In fragments, chok' d up vaults, and frescos steep' d
In subterranean damps, where the owl peep' d.
Deeming it midnight: --Temples, baths, or halls?
Pronounce who can; for all that Learning reap'd
From her research hath been, that these are walls--
Hobhouse asserted that in the incertitude, fourteenth-
century historians could not locate the seven hills on which
ancient Rome stood; and, in the fifteenth century, Augustan
monks labeled at random numerous ancient ruins with no con
sideration of history or regard for veracity. Further
125
confusing the issue, through the ages names on monuments
varied depending on which antiquarian named them. Hobhouse
confirmed that, at one time, the group identifying remains
designated all vaulted ruins as baths while at another time
they called them temples. He insisted that modern topogra
phers felt embarrassment from the inexact nomenclature.
"Temples, baths, or halls? Pronounce who can" (cvii).
Hobhouse accused contemporary archaeological societies of
unethically capitalizing on a lucrative trade with unsus
pecting tourists who had no idea of the false information
pawned onto them. He charged that in a hundred years of
existence, the societies had produced neither an integrated
survey of the excavated ruins and antiquities nor a satis
factory city map. But, they had done some good things also--
antiquarians located several burial chambers of early promi
nent familes along the original Appian Way, and by 1817 had
restored a section of the ancient Way complete with villas,
public walks, decorated tombs and other memorabilia. Hob
house described how one could view concurrently ruins of an
ancient metropolis in the midst of a modern city and feel
the aura of both civilizations.
He regretted, however, that a nineteenth-century tourist
wanting to find monuments to Rome's mythic heroes could see
so few whole objects among the vestiges of early ages. In
his judgment, one did not visit Rome to view the Flavian
princes' shrines or to read Aurelius's philosophy. He
126
asserted that the modern tourist came to Rome to view sites
and objects related to those institutions that civilized a
barbaric world. To him, fragments of Cicero's house or
monuments to early patriots overshadowed all the lofty
ruins of Trajan and Julian.
Although the two tourists could never be sure that the
ruins represented the actual sites, Byron alluded to many
legendary and historical marvels. As he wandered through the
"marble wilderness," he designated specific sites for about
forty stanzas, describing ruins in the ancient city.
Hobhouse, however, added the information that brought meaning
to the poetic perspective. In his explication on the expanse
and history of ruins, a modern reader could almost visualize
the magnificence of Augustus's obelisk and the theater of
Palladio, sense the solitude felt in the vaults of the Pala
tine, and understand the veneration inspired by the magni
tude, grandeur and variety of relics. Hobhouse sensed that
any traveler, even one lacking education and curiosity, would
feel a rapturous awe and ask how to understand what he felt
in the midst of the "broken thrones and temples" (51). Byron
voiced the same awe:
cxxxvi i i
--Now welcome, thou dread power!
Nameless, yet thus omnipotent, which here
Walk'st in the shadow of the midnight hour
With a deep awe, yet all distinct from fear;
127
Thy haunts are ever where the dead walls rear
Their ivy mantles, and the solemn scene
Derives from thee a sense so deep and clear
That we become a part of what has been
And grow unto the spot, all-seeing but unseen.
Byron began the lengthy poetic passage on ruins by mus
ing on the identity and cause of death for a nameless Roman
lady whose tomb was a splendid memorial structure:
But who was she, the lady of the dead.
Tombed in a palace? Was she chaste and fair?
Worthy a king's--or more--a Roman's bed?
What race of chiefs and heroes did she bear?
What daughter of her beauties was the heir?
How lived--how loved--how died she?
He continued reflecting on the unidentified woman through
several stanzas, and then meditated on Cecilia Metella's
tomb: "Metella died,/ The wealthiest Roman's wife; Behold his
love or pride!" (ciii).
Hobhouse commented on the brevity of the inscription--
four words and two initials--marking the sepulchre of a be
loved wife, but surmised that pride, not love dictated build
ing such a sepulchre. Only a few disfigured blocks remained
of the original tomb, yet he said it was still one of the
most striking ruins in Rome. He could learn nothing about
128
the family whose name was carved on the sepulchre, but that
name appeared several times in Augustan court documents and
in the annals of Tacitus.
He described the deliberate demolition of this kind of
structure when feudal lords converted tombs and mausoleums
to military fortresses where they lived. That fact affirmed
Byron's expression, "Ages and realms are crowded in this
span,/ This mountain, whose obliterated plan/ The pyramid of
empires pinnacled" (cix). Hobhouse could only surmise when
Metella's tomb became a fortress, and a military garrison
walked through her ashes. Historical sources confirmed that
a German family named Savelli claimed the tomb until 1312
when Henry VII, with a German army, attacked it. Later, a
Gaetani family became owners (for 20,000 marks) and raised
walls near the tomb, added a superstructure, and joined it
to their nearby mansion. Still later. Urban VIII cut away
some of the marble blocks for the fountain of Trevi, and
consigned others to lime kilns.
Byron and Hobhouse saw the most massive ruins in the
Palatine region that originally incorporated the Circus Maxi-
m us and Caesar's palace. Hobhouse described the area as a
sea of ruins where even the soil was a mass of rubble. Byron
depicted the spot as a roosting place for owls:
cvi
Then let the winds howl on! their harmony
Shall henceforth be my music, and the night
129
The sound shall temper with the owlet's cry.
As I now hear them, in the fading light
Dim O'er the bird of darkness' native site,
Answering each other on the Palatine,
With their large eyes, all glistening grey and bright.
And sailing pinions. --Upon such a shrine
What are our petty griefs?--let me not number mine.
While Byron lost himself in revery and awe, Hobhouse
could only think of the historical chronicles of destruction
and restoration as Anastasius described invasions, civil
wars, and uprisings. Although a thirteenth-century pilgrim
wrote about Palatine mansions and palaces, by the beginning
of the fifteenth century not a single building stood in the
area except a ruined Church of St. Nicholas. Hobhouse ex
plained how one could walk through the Palatine ruins for
days, exploring corridors of imperial ruins above ground or
below, and meditate all the while on the original purpose of
the structures. In 1817, the main inhabitants of the area
were owls, foxes and jackasses while one footpath crossed
the Palatine and led through the stations of the vi a c r u c i s
to a church and monastery dedicated to St. Bonaventura.
The Farnese family served as one example in Hobhouse's
account of Naples dukes who wanted a summer house in the
Palatine area. To embellish their finished villa, they
did what others had done for centuries in scrounging
130
ancient sculpture, statues and colored marbles from baths,
amphitheaters, deserted palaces and ruined churches. They
hired Michael Angelo to design, and Raphael to paint fres
coes in their palace and hippodrome built to house an entire
court. In fact, it was so large that a Neapolitan ambassador
became "lost in one of the suites of one of the stories of
one of the sides" (209) of the building. Less than fifty
years later, the family abandoned it and pilferers stripped
it of its treasures. In the nineteenth century, residents
called a sunken part of the Farnese vineyard by the name
Baths of Li via, but no one could tell Hobhouse why. Also,
a subterranean chamber in the same area, and reputed to be
Nero's baths, had been excavated by antiquarians. A few huge
marble blocks with Apollo's name sculpted on them lay about,
and he surmised that they could have come from Apollo's
temple, which originally stood somewhere near the Circus
Maxi mus.
The forum area was at one time the most spectacular
exhibit of ancient Rome. According to historians, two
forums, the Roman and Trajan's, occupied the site. The
Englishman conceded that antiquarians of different ages had
located the forum at various places, none of them with
certainty. Hobhouse said that early Christian zealots spared
the area because it contained statues of young men who had
fallen in war, along with memorials to poets and literary
heroes.
131
Byron described the Forum as a place of free speech
before a "lawless soldier" rendered the senate mute.
CXI 1 1
The field of freedom, faction, fame, and blood:
Here a proud people's passions were exhaled.
From the first hour of empire in the bud
To that when further worlds to conquer fail'd;
But long before had Freedom's face been veil'd.
And Anarchy assumed her attributes;
Two authors commented on the Forum in the twelfth
century but, according to Hobhouse, it was probably in ruins
at that time. Historians reported that by the end of the
twelfth century, a church stood on part of Trajan's Forum.
In the thirteenth century, Boniface VIII built three churches
with towers on the site. In the sixteenth century, Paul III
leveled two hundred cottages in the area in order to dig an
arch from under Trajan's column (as Byron indicated, "Thou
nameless column with the buried base!" ex). In the excava
tion, diggers discovered the original Forum floor, statues,
a basilica and a portico. When Hobhouse visited the spot.
mo dern excavators had exposed the floor in all of its mag
nificent beauty, and had restored marble columns, porticos
and a basilica to create a splendor that Hobhouse considered
a rival to Pompeii's. In the sixteenth century, Cassidorius
reported Trajan's statue still atop the column. The histo
rian also explained that an emperor's ashes traditionally
132
were put into the head of a spear held in the hand of the
statue. Hadrian, however, buried Trajan's ashes beneath the
column in a golden urn. Without explaining what happened to
Trajan's statue, the historian reported that in the seven
teenth-century, Sixtus Quintus placed St. Peter's statue on
top of Trajan's column. After learning what Hobhouse ferret
ed out from ancient sources, the reader could understand By
ron' s poetic riddle about "apostolic statues":
ex
Tully was not so eloquent as thou.
Thou nameless columns with the buried base!
What are the laurels of the Caesar's brow?
Whose arch or pillar meets me in the face,
Titus or Trajan's? No--'tis that of Time:
Triumph, arch, pillar, all he doth displace
Scoffing; and apostolic statues climb
To crush the imperial urn, whose ashes slept sublime,
cxi
Buried in air, the deep blue sky of Rome,
And looking to the stars:
Many gaps existed in historians' accounts, but according
to a ninth-century anecdote Gregory the Great prayed for and
liberated Trajan's soul from hell. Thus Trajan's column and
Forum became a holy place that would not be pillaged or de
faced. Byron included a tribute to Trajan in cxi:
he was more
133
Than a mere Alexander, and, unstain'd
With household blood and wine, serenely wore
His sovereign virtues--sti11 we Trajan's name adore
No classically educated Englishman could forget the
association of Cicero and the Roman Forum. Both Byron and
Hobhouse recalled past events in the Forum and remembered
Cicero's rhetorical vigor. Byron included a tribute to the
rhetori ci an: CXI 1:
Yes: and in yon field below,
A thousand years of silenced factions sleep--
The Forum, where the immortal accents glow.
And still the eloquent air breathes--burns with Ci cero!
Although the village of Mola di Gaeta claimed Cicero's
tomb, villa and artifacts, Hobhouse cited the ancient writer
Plutarch who mentioned a temple of Cicero in the region of
the Forum. During Constanti ne' s time (i. e. fourth century),
Roman senators restored a temple in the name of Cicero, ac
cording to Donatus. In the fifteenth century, historian
Poggio witnessed the destruction of a portico said to be part
of Cicero's temple. Although repeated fires, earthquakes
and invasions left little trace of the temple where Cicero
assembled the senate, Hobhouse viewed two inscribed plaques
marking the spot. He expressed awe in knowing that he stood
where Cicero once spoke. In terms of true veneration, he
134
praised Cicero as "the wisest and best man of all antiquity"
(225), and theorized that the most unknowing observer would
be sensitive to the memory of the great orator because even
the most ignorant Roman still revered him.
Continuing to ponder the ruins, Byron created another
poetic enigma for the uneducated, and again Hobhouse clari
fied it cxi 1
Where is the rock of Triumph, the high place
Where Rome embraced her heroes? where the steep
Tarpeian? fittest goal of Treason's race.
The promontory whence the Traitor's leap
Cured all ambition.
Hobhouse first explained that Capitol Hill and the Tar
peian Rock were the same high ground and originally Capitol
Hill combined with the Forum as a single section of Rome.
He speculated that the Athenaeum originally covered the whole
hill, but historians disagreed on the location of the struc
ture. One topographer located it on the site of St. Salva-
tor' s church, but that church no longer existed when Hobhouse
visited the spot.
Again resorting to ancient historians, he traced the
deep historical roots of Capitol Hill where students learned
rhetoric in a true university. Through the centuries, each
revolutionary faction battled to control the high ground of
the hill. Muratori reported that from the hill, the antipope
135
John was thrown to his death after he had his ears chopped
off, his eyes pulled out, his tongue removed, and had been
paraded about Rome on an ass (facing the tail).
Continuing to trace the history, Hobhouse reported on
repeated assaults by pontiffs and senators. By the fif
teenth century, noblemen (Hobhouse called them barons), popes
and senators had fought over the hill, and various plunderers
had removed the gilded doors and tiles from all of the
ancient structures. When Paul III reestablished papal power
in the sixteenth century, he hired Michael Angelo to make the
citadel both accessible and attractive. Michael Angelo had
to lower the hill enough for one to reach the top with one
hundred steps maximum--fewer steps than the nearby Benedic
tine church used, one hundred twenty-four. After this
levelling process, the Coliseum towered over the Tarpeian
Rock, and Capitol Hill lost its prominence as high ground.
In spite of elucidating many enigmas, Hobhouse could not
so Ive one riddle about Capitol Rock. No historian recorded
from which precipice traitors were thrown. However, he did
incorporate the story of one of the most interesting and sue
cessful revolutions against the tyranny of noblemen who did
not know how to rule. Byron included the basic details,
which were meaningless until Hobhouse filled the gaps.
cxi V
Then turn we to her latest tribune's name,
From her ten thousand tyrants turn to thee.
136
Redeemer of dark centuries of shame--
The friend of Petrarch--hope of Italy--
Rienzi! last of Romans! While the tree
Of Freedom's withered trunk puts forth a leaf.
Even for thy tomb a garland let it be--
The forum's champion, and the people's chief--
Her new-born Numa thou--with reign alas! too brief.
Could any scholar except a diligent student of ancient
history recognize the name Rienzi? Because both Byron and
Hobhouse revered freedom and knew Italian history, they dei
fied Rienzi, a fourteenth-century citizen leader, poet and
friend of Petrarch. In fact, during this tumultous era, Pet
rarch' s poetry carried the message of patriotism and freedom
throughout the region as he applauded Rienzi's acts. Not
only did Rienzi have the famous poet as a fellow-citizen
voicing concerns; he also had Giovanni Villani as a reliable
biographer witnessing his exploits and recording them.
In 1817, Byron and Hobhouse viewed two articles that
reminded them of this revolution. First, Constantine's
bronze horse still stood where Rienzi had arranged for wine
to flow from one nostril and water from the other on his
coronation day. Also, in the Capitoline Museum, Hobhouse saw
fragments of tablets conferring on Vespasian his authority to
reign. According to superstitious legend, Rienzi was the
only Roman able to interpret the tablets. Both Vespasian and
Rienzi were of plebian birth, and this supernatural ability
137
to read indecipherable tablets indicated the heavens' plea
sure with Rienzi's role in human affairs as liberator and
ruler.
Hobhouse referred to Gibbon's characterization of
Rienzi, but his historical summary came from the historian
Muratori. Rienzi served as a senate tribune popularly elect
ed, the "hope of Italy" to protect ordinary citizens from
patrician magistrates. As a persuasive orator, he capital
ized on the people's resentment of the pleasure-loving nobil
ity and aroused the citizenry to open rebellion--"the tree/
Of Freedom's withered trunk puts forth a leaf." When a
faction of the church supported him, Rienzi and his fellow
rebels celebrated an all-night mass in St. Angelo' s Church
before they marched through the streets under religious
banners and proclaimed their intentions. Rienzi, as the
"forum's champion and the people's chief," envisioned
a constitutionally federated republic with the blessings of
peace and justice for all citizens. His battle cry of peace,
majesty and justice must have sounded like the call of the
French Revolution to Byron and Hobhouse who firmly supported
that cause as young men. Feudal wars between noblemen were
part of the treachery of the times, but Rienzi's total suc
cess proved to Hobhouse that Roman citizens still treasured
freedom. As Byron proclaimed, Rienzi redeemed "dark centu
ries of shame" in overthrowing the nobility's rule, imposing
a system of justice, and creating a free republic.
138
Hobhouse confirmed the forceful rule of Rienzi. In one
of his first acts, he restored Clement VI to papal power.
Then he concentrated on ridding the city government of cor
ruption and restored dignity to honest labor. Although he
renamed the Holy Roman Empire the Holy Roman Republic and
identified himself as a citizen tribune, the vanity of suc
cess prompted him to assume "fopperies of royalty" (256).
He soon ordained a lengthy title for himself, established a
chivalric court of horsemen, wore pompous robes, and general
ly indulged an insatiable hunger for power and recognition.
According to Hobhouse's analysis, when he returned Rome to
the lascivious public feasts of the Caesars, the vice of ex
travagant conduct and pride alienated him from the root of
his political strength in the common citizens of Rome. His
downfall became eminent when he set himself up as dictator
and ordered himself crowned with seven crowns (representing
the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit). He demanded that the
cardinals and pope attend his coronation (from Avignon where
they lived and officiated over church matters from 1306 to
1376). Within a month of his coronation, he was dethroned
and exiled. Even though Byron was probably not referring to
Rienzi, the words fit as he defined "Ambition, that built up
between/ Man and his hopes an adamantine wall,
man's worst--his second fall" (scvii).
and dooms
Hobhouse reported that Rienzi took refuge in St. Angelo
Castle and ignominiously escaped at night in the guise of a
139
peasant beggar. After seven years of aimless wandering, he
identified himself, became a political prisoner of the inqui
sition in Avignon, and was charged with heresy and rebellion.
However, as the historians recorded, the cardinals judged
that his trial would expose embarrassing clerical secrets,
and both Clement and Innocent VI considered his ability to
reform the anarchy of Rome worthy of restoring him to power
as a senator. Admittedly, Rienzi did "redeem centuries of
shame" in the overthrow of the despotic nobility and the
restoration of individual freedom. However, four months
after his return as a patriot senator, a mob of Roman citi
zens massacred him. From a twentieth-century vantage point,
one' could say that he proved the modern maxim that revolution
perpetuates revolution. Byron expressed a similar nine
teenth century perspective:
xc vi:
Can tyrants but by tyrants conquered be,
And Freedom find no champion and no child
Such as Columbia saw arise when she
Sprung forth a Pallas, armed and undefiled?
Hobhouse relied on historians to confirm a personal con
viction that humans could bear neither the servitude of slav
ery nor the latitude of complete freedom. He asserted that
in Italy a national tendency to revolt created an impatience
with control that found its outlet in violent conduct. When
Rienzi capitalized on this tendency and harangued against the
140
unpopular tyranny, and the popular bard Petrarch endorsed his
campaign for liberty, the revolt could not fail. To Hob
house, the ease of this success proved the ageless allure of
freedom while Rienzi's fall from fortune only proved the in
constancy of the Roman citizenry.
Continuing to catalogue individual ruins methodically,
Byron began the Coliseum passage by recalling gladiators
fighting and dying as "the playthings of a crowd":
cxxxi X
And here the buzz of eager nations run.
In murmured pity, or loud-roared applause.
As man was slaughtered by his fellow man.
And wherefore slaughtered? wherefore, but because
Such were the bloody Circus' genial laws,
And the imperial pleasure. . . .
cxli i
But here, where Murder breathed her bloody steam;
And here, where burning nations choked the ways.
And roar' d or murmur' d like a mountain stream
Dashing or winding as its torrent strays;
Here where the Roman million's blame or praise
Was death in life, the playthings of a crowd.
Then he included a passage on the impressive ruin as it was
in 1817 and confirmed Hobhouse' s account of popes and
senators using its massive blocks for private palaces:
141
clxiii
A ruin--yet what ruin! from its mass
Walls, palaces, half-cities, have been reared;
Yet oft the enormous skeleton ye pass
And marvel where the spoil could have appeared.
Hath it indeed been plundered, or but cleared?
Hobhouse reported seeing Vatican letters that offered
stones from the Coliseum for sale in 1362, and again in
1531. Although many of its stones found their way into the
lime kilns, some of the finest palaces in Italy were built
from them, just as Byron said.
Hobhouse reported that the ancient historian Marangoni
credibly asserted that an architect named Gaudentius built
the matchless structure, and was executed in it for his
Christian faith. One historian explained the purpose of the
structure--to house gladiator shows where men battled wild
beasts--while another calculated that the entire facility
could hold over 10,000 wild beasts at the same time that it
accommodated 87,000 seated spectators and 22,000 standing.
Another historian reported that under Domitian second-century
spectators became glutted with the crucifixions and burnings
that followed the gladiators' being "butcher"d to make a
Roman holiday" (cxli). Byron expressed disapproval of this
slaughter and called on them to revolt: "Arise! ye Goths,
and glut your ire!" (cxli).
142
In continuing his poetic treatise, Byron included a
citation from Gibbon, in which Gibbon referred to Bede for
proof that seventh and eighth-century pilgrims saw the
Coliseum whole even though Rome was partially destroyed.
(Hobhouse identified and interpreted the citation.) Few
readers then or now would recognize the ancient citation
or its source and few would understand its significance
relative to the ruin. cxl V
While stands the Coliseum, Rome shall stand;
"When falls the Coliseum, Rome shall fall;
And when Rome falls--the World." From our own land
Thus spake the pilgrims o'er this mighty wall
In Saxon times, which we are wont to call
Ancient;
In his detailed history of the Coliseum, Hobhouse re
ported destructive forces that assailed the ancient struc
ture. In 219, a fire destroyed an upper section occupied by
brothels. When lightning damaged the structure, Constantine
repaired it to its original height, 108 feet of solid stone.
However, seventh-century earthquakes, along with neglect and
floods proved to be more than the durable structure could
withstand and the entire south wall collapsed. Through
several stanzas Byron confirmed the structure's majesty in
"arches on arches," a "vast and wondrous monument" of "ruined
battlement./ For which the palace of the present hour/ Must
yield its pomp, and wait till ages are its dower" (cxxix).
143
Once again Byron posed the question (of meaning) and
Hobhouse interpreted the significance: "Amidst this wreck,
where thou hast made a shrine/ And temple more divinely
desolate" (cxxxi). Hobhouse commented on the piety accorded
the Coliseum but denied to other pagan structures. Because
of the faithful who died there, even the pontiffs could not
agree on a proper attitude toward the structure. Pius V
considered the earth from the Coliseum the most holy relic
in Rome while other pontiffs sanctioned bull fights there,
established a wool manufacturing plant and artisan shops,
and consecrated the structure as a shrine to martyrs. Voic
ing neither praise nor censure, Hobhouse recalled the seven
teenth century philosophizing of Sir Francis Bacon in London
at the same time that a Roman mystic named Neri was raising
the dead and being tempted by the devil in the Coliseum.
Also, if one was not too skeptical to believe the ecclesiati-
cal sources, in the consecrated Coliseum Saint Ignatius Loy
ola received one hundred gold crowns from an angelic messen
ger (sent by the slain martyrs who had been in Loyola's medi
tations). Byron was probably recalling the courage and valor
of countless gladiators when he perceived a hallowed, though
not necessarily sacred aura in the ancient ruin. Part of his
expression created an insoluble enigma without Hobhouse' s
lucid clarification: "Then in this magic circle raise the
dead:/ Heroes have trod this spot--'tis in their dust ye
tread" ( cxliv) .
144
Following Byron's sequence in the catalogue of ruins.
Hobhouse reminisced about another architectural wonder--the
Pantheon whose ruin still enraptured the spectator and exem
plified every art and science known to man. He could find
no historical confirmation for the original purpose of the
edifice, and no historian supported the thirteenth-century
pilgrim's contention that the temple originally belonged
to Cybele and Neptune. Pliny contended that it was dedicated
to Jove in spite of its resemblance to the temples of Venus
and Mars. Early Christian writers argued that the structure
was dedicated to all gods. As Hobhouse quipped, the church
could not admit that a pagan temple still stood. If early
Christians had thought of it as a temple, they would have
destroyed it as they did other pagan structures. In 1749,
Abate Lazeri published a treatise to prove the Pantheon
was either a bath or a tomb. Although Hobhouse felt that
Italians should be interested in preserving the illustrious
Augustan monument, he expressed shock to see superstitious
worshippers sitting and staring at a cobweb covered block,
awaiting a message from God in the design of the cobweb.
Byron also felt awed by the beautiful "relic of nobler
days": cxl vi
Simple, erect, severe, austere, sublime--
Shrine of all saints and temple of all gods,
From Jove to Jesus--spared and blest by time;
145
Looking tranquillity, while falls or nods
Arch, empire, each thing around thee, and man plods
His way through thorns to ashes--glorious dome!
Shalt thou not last? Time's scythe and tyrants' rods
Shiver upon thee--santuary and home
Of art and piety--Pantheon! --pride of Rome!
cxlvi i
Relic of nobler days, and noblest arts!
Despoiled yet perfect, with thy circle spreads
A holiness appealing to all hearts--
To art a model; and to him who treads
Rome for the sake of ages, Glory sheds
Her light through thy sole aperture; to those
Who worship, here are altars for their beads;
And they who feel for genius may here repose
Their eyes on honoured forms.
Incorporating both religious and secular history, Hob
house carefully detailed the full story of the structure to
indicate the importance of the building through the ages from
a Christian monument dedicated to all martyrs to a fortified
site. Boniface insisted that before its consecration, demons
hid there and attacked passersby.
As the pair wandered through the tangled landscape of
ruins, both responded in the same way to many of the relics.
One of Byron's most moving depictions occurred in his
146
description of a prison dungeon where legend said that a
Roman daughter fed her dying father with milk from her own
breast.
cxlvi i i
There is a dungeon, in whose dim drear light
What do I gaze on? Nothing: Look again!
Two forms are slowly shadowed on my sight--
Two insulated phantoms of the brain:
It is not so; I see them full and plain--
An old man, and a female young and fair,
Fresh as a nursing mother.
. . but what doth she there?
With her unmantled neck, and bosom white and bare?
cl
But here youth offers to old age the food.
The milk of his own gift: --it is her sire
To whom she renders back the debt of blood
Born with her birth. No; he shall not expire
While in those warm and lovely veins the fire
Of health and holy feeling can provide
Great Nature's Nile, whose deep stream rises higher
Than Egypt's river:--from that gentle side
Drink, drink and live, old man! Heaven's realm holds no such tide.
This passage would remind a modern American reader of
John Steinbeck's novel The Grapes of Wrath. It reminded
147
Hobhouse of a famous battle as he explained the legend re
peated by tour guides on the site of St. Nicholas Church.
Originally a Temple of Piety built by Glabrio and dedicated
to his father's victory at Thermopylae stood there. Anti
quarians identified some columns and wall fragments as rem
nants of Glabrio's Temple of Piety raised to the Roman
maid. Historians confirmed that for centuries tourists had
been led by torch to see an ancient dungeon at the base of
the columns, but Hobhouse argued that the columns he saw did
not come from a prison. He cited Pliny who indicated only
one temple, that of Juno, in the area. Regardless of the
original structure, Hobhouse accepted the presence of a
Christian church as proof that some pagan temple once stood
there.
Hobhouse reported on another impressive ruin with a rich
tradition and long history as he cited early historians' de
scriptions of a mausoleum built to honor Hadrian, a soldier,
statesman and scholar. Originally it was a square structure
of Parian marble blocks fitted without cement and topped with
marble statues of men and horses--Hobhouse called it an "imi
tation of Egyptian deformity" (300). Ancient historians al
luded to a fortress with a church on top--St. Angelo's--and
later a castle. Since it controlled the principal entry into
the city, the significance of its capture would rank with the
devastation of famine or earthquake. The ruin that Byron and
148
Hobhouse saw resulted from a powder magazine blowing up
inside the Mole in 1479. Byron included his impressions of
the Mole in majestic poetry unsurpassed by other travelogues
cli i
Turn to the Mole which Hadrian rear'd on high.
Imperial mimic of old Egypt's piles.
Colossal copyist of deformity.
Whose travelled phantasy from the far Nile's
Enormous model, doom' d the artist's toils
To build for giants, and for his vain earth
His shrunken ashes raise this dome: How smiles
The gazer's eye with philosophic mirth.
To view the huge design which sprung from such a birth!
Using his customary style of detailing both minor and
major historical figures, Hobhouse described the construction
of the Mole, reported how feudal defenders joined the Mole to
the city wall during the seige by the Goths, and traced its
ownership to the nineteenth century. Few historians even
would relish the tedious account, but it revealed a peculiar
attitude and atmosphere in history of that time period. When
the Patrician Theodora seized the castle as the first step in
establishing her rule, control of the castle also allowed her
lover, the Bishop of Ravenna, to become Pope John X. Also in
the tenth-century, within the castle walls Cardinal Francone
assassinated Benedict VI. Consequently, Benedict VII drove
149
the murderous cardinal from Rome, and left his own band of
ruffians in the castle while he went to Constantinople to
slay another pope, John XIV.
During the eleventh century, intrigue led both popes and
anti-popes to control and beseige the castle, and Hobhouse
traced a sequence of ownerships and seiges, assaults and sur
renders. In 1096 crusaders futilely assaulted it. In the
fourteenth century after Rienzi's death. Innocent VI feared
that rebel dukes would seize the Mole, so he installed
Lusignan, king of Cyprus and a Roman senator, in it. Even
though various tenants changed, adorned, and strengthened
it. Urban VIII did the most major renovation when he added a
moat and a hundred cannons.
The one sight to which the pair responded quite differ
ently was the spectacular structure, St. Peter's Cathedral.
Byron eloquently described how its majestic beauty surpassed
Sophia's sanctuary where Moslems prayed. His introspective
meditations during the entire tour suggested a sensitive
spirit seeking answers to a Gordian knot dilemma, and prob
ably explained the tremendous impact on him of "the dome--the
vast and wondrous dome, . . . Christ's mighty shrine above
his martyr's tomb!" (cliii).
cli V
But thou, of temples old, or altars new,
Standest alone--with nothing like to thee--
Worthiest of God, the holy and the true.
150
Since Zion's desolation, when that He
Forsook his former city, what could be.
Of earthly structures, in his honour piled.
Of a sublimer aspect? Majesty,
Power, Glory, Strength, and Beauty, all are aisled
In this eternal ark of worship undefiled.
cl vi
Vastness which grows--but grows to harmonize--
All musical in its immensities;
Rich marbles--riCher painting--shrines where flame
The lamps of gold--and haughty dome which vies
In air with Earth's chief structures, though their frame
S i t s on t h e f i r m - s e t g r o u n d - - a n d t h i s t h e c l o u d s must c l a i m ,
c l v i i i
even so t h i s
O u t s h i n i n g and o v e r w h e l m i n g e d i f i c e
Fools our fond gaze, and greatest of the great
Defies at first our Nature's littleness.
Till, growing with its growth, we thus dilate
Our spirits to the size of that they contemplate.
In much more mundane language, Hobhouse recorded
impressions of frenzied activity and a cacophony of sound
wi t hi n:
A noisy school for children in one corner; a sermon preached to a moveable audience in another; a concert in
151
this chapel; a ceremony. . . in another quarter; a ceaseless crowd sauntering along the nave, and circulating through all the aisles; listeners and gazers walking, sitting, kneeling; some rubbing their foreheads against the worn toes of the bronze St. Peter, others smiling at them; confessors in boxes absolving penitents; lacquey ^e Places expounding pictures. (316)
Although Hobhouse reacted to the architectural beauty
and accomplishment in the structure, he felt that nothing
could resemble primitive Christianity less than the present
activities in St, Peter's. Since he felt no reverential awe
as Byron did, he could objectively critique the common Itali
an' s indifferent participation in ceremonies, and noted that
only foreigners and clerical figures flocked to the "papal
shows" (318). Hobhouse conjectured that these pagan cere
monies and ridiculous superstitions would continue because
the elderly, the poor, the uneducated, and the clergy main
tained devout obedience to the Catholic religion. As a nomi
nally religious individual, he viewed any religious ceremony
as a harmless ritual, and cynically remarked that St. Peter's
could never stir nineteenth-century worshippers with the fer
vor that early Christians felt in their catacombs.
In a bitter treatise detailing practices of the Catholic
Church Hobhouse reported how cardinals examined modern mira
cles according to the rules of the council of Trent, and sub
stantiated them by sixteenth-century standards. Then, they were
published and people thronged to either witness or experience
them. Ceremonial floggings still piously demonstrated the
152
penance of convent inhabitants, and Hobhouse witnessed a ves
pers service whose kneeling audience lashed themselves in
penance for secret sins and in memory of martyrs as they
uttered prayers to the Virgin Mary. He humorously considered
this flagellation as a remedy for atheism, but also a refine
ment of barbaric mutilations practiced by pagan priests. As
he wittily commented, in primitive cultures beating oneself
was more expedient than beating another.
Historically, flagellation began in 1260 with pilgrims
bound for Rome flogging themselves as an act of piety. It
soon became a national penance sanctioned by the clergy.
Hobhouse concluded that as a bond of brotherhood among re
ligious institutions, it would continue for generations with
papal sponsorship although civilized nations humanely prohib
ited it everywhere except in Rome.
During their time in Rome, Byron and Hobhouse took the
usual tourist jaunts listed in all the guidebooks. One of
these included an area above Rome where a tunnel two miles
long had been cut in solid stone in 398 B. C. before the
Veian War (what Byron called the "Epic war"). As a memor
ial to perseverance, the shaft had no equal in the modern
world, according to Hobhouse. The tunnel drainage had creat
ed a beautiful mountain lake--Nemi. Knowing this, any reader
could partially interpret Byron's description of natural
beauty viewed from the mountains west of Rome.
153
clxxi i i
Lo, Nemi! navelled in the woody hills
So far, that the uprooting wind which tears
The oak from his foundation, and which spills
The ocean o'er its boundary, and bears
Its foam against the skies, reluctant spares
The oval mirror of thy glassy lake;
And, calm as cherish'd hate, its surface wears
A deep cold settled aspect nought can shake.
All coiled into itself and round, as sleeps the snake.
According to Hobhouse, the tunnel builders knew all the
arts of civilization, but their society was buried when a
volcano erupted and collapsed inward, creating a second lake
nearby--Albano, which Byron also portrayed:
clxxi V
And near Albano's scarce divided waves
Shine from a sister valley; and afar
The Tyber winds, and the broad ocean laves
The Latian coast where sprung the Epic war;
The Sabine farm was till'd, the weary bard's delight
The classically educated Englishmen appreciated the
Arician grove (from the Aenei d) near Lake Nemi, and "the
weary bard's delight" (i. e. Cicero's ruined villa near
Albano which still had its mosaic floor intact). Also,
154
Pompey s villa and tomb along with other ruins intrigued the
sensitive antiquarian spirit of Hobhouse.
While Byron was disinterested, Hobhouse was fascinated
by the most intriguing and mysterious artifacts ever recov
ered from any ancient civilization in Italy that were coming
to light in 1817 near Lake Albano. Hobhouse described how
excavators worked in the volcanic debris covering ruins of
villas and tombs. The layers of volcanic peperine under
which excavators found assorted relics were deposited through
several eruptions before the Christian era began. Hobhouse
viewed many articles reportedly recovered from the ancient
civilizations including figured vases, terra cotta shards,
iron nails, metal mirrors and lead conduits. The excavations
had also unearthed antique bronze and brass utensils and as
sorted dinnerware with various other artifacts. Cremated
bones and burial urns indicated ancient burial practices
among the mysterious civilization. Hobhouse read a treatise
in which Dr. Alexander Visconti theorized on the objects and
commented on the peculiar composition of iron oxide and clay
enriched by volcanic sand in the glass of the vases. Also
the various shapes indicated a variety of uses--for perfume,
ointment, honey, water and wine.
Hobhouse questioned the authenticity of several of the
relics, which were in a private museum and for sale at an
exaggerated price. He recognized the workmanship on the
utensils as much later than Visconti projected and of the
155
same type frequently discovered in both Greece and Italy
among burial relics. He further displayed his intensive
education as an antiquarian when he judged the larger pottery
as not a Roman type. In his own hypothesizing, Hobhouse
relied on private historical sources of Cato and others who
surmised that an aboriginal society moved from Greece to Ita
ly several generations before the Trojan War. They intermar
ried with other races who lived along the Tiber. Although
the Greeks were barbarians, they introduced Greek music,
language and customs to the area. Hobhouse argued that the
makers of the bronze vases represented a higher level of
civilization than authorities assumed possible at that time,
but the pottery was crude enough to fit that era. He charged
that nobody had verified whether the relics had been found
together, and reminded antiquarians that artifacts collected
over a vast area did not necessarily come from the same per
iod of time. So, for him, the Alban vases created a plethora
of unanswered questions.
Citing an English excavator who worked part of the site,
Hobhouse conjectured on the strange runic characters on the
pottery. Rooted in a cross, they resembled the "cruciform
hammer" (343) used on remote Scandinavian monuments to denote
Thor's battle axe and the horn of mead. To both the English
man and Hobhouse, this similarity raised interesting ques
tions of an interchange much earlier than historians had
thought possible. Hobhouse admitted that throughout Europe
156
a runic alphabet was once widely used, but cautioned that
many antiquarians let their enthusiasm override their judg
ment when they fancied a connection between the widely dif
fused characters.
Hobhouse reported how the excavators looked to mythology
for an affinity between the two distant cultures after they
had exhausted other resources. Their mythic explanation
concluded that the Romans' Jupiter was the "thunderer of the
Northmen" (343), and Celtic aborigines could have left the
remote antiquities in Italy. Hobhouse recalled that a hammer
of Thor inscription had been found in Spain, and it also ap
peared in many magical books. But, he anticipated Jung's
theory of certain universal mythic characters when he theo
rized that it was a mythological character common to mankind
in general. To prove his point, he used the example of the
five-pointed star drawn by English shepherds who had never
heard of Antiochus, had never seen a replica of his coin, and
had no knowledge of its connection with mysticism.
Overall, modern readers would understand little of the
connotative implications in the names of people and places
cited by Byron. Certainly Hobhouse succeeded in explicating
vague allusions and in adding a depth of interpretation few
historians could duplicate. He also selectively outlined
what he judged as important background information to enhance
his poet friend's travelogue masterpiece, and insisted on a
unity between the canto and the explanatory material. While
157
a few critics admitted that he influenced the canto, none
ever conceded that he made the canto a meaningful reading
experience for everyone willing to delve into the historical
allusions underlying the surface poem.
CHAPTER VI
CONCLUSION
Nineteenth-century critics contributed little to litera
ry values as they reprimanded Byron and implicated his moral
reputation with his poetic expressions. Some concentrated on
a factual account of his tour, the poetic themes of ruin and
decay, and recapped Austria's tyranny in Italy. They pointed
to either real or imagined autobiographical and historical
elements in the canto, commiserated with Byron's subjective
responses, catalogued his personal woes and introspective
meditations on anger, self-pity, melancholy, pessimism,
despondency, and grief along with his poetic reflections on
life and the beauty in nature. They evaluated his political
sentiments and the parallel between his poetic perspective
and Italy's as they enumerated grammatical mistakes and
rhythmic weaknesses in the canto. None of these themes
required reiteration by twentieth-century commentators, yet
most modern critics used their newly coined jargon of meta
language to tread the familiar path and reflect on these
same specifics.
However, some twentieth-century scholars added new or
deeper dimensions to the canon of critical treatises on Canto
IV. These scholars identified a transcendental quality
overlooked by nineteenth-century critics and traced the
transcendental vision of hope and transmutation; they noted
the influence of Calvinism on Byron's expressions and his
158
159
psychological projection of self into the scene viewed; they
analyzed his orientation to the subconscious with the result
ing symbolic attitude toward life; some noted the thematic
nucleus of organization and the perfect symmetry of the can
to; a few examined Byron's introspective analysis and self-
definition; others concentrated on his use of images and sym
bols along with specific connotations and verbal patterns. A
few dared to extend analytical techniques to search for mean
ing in unusual trajectories. One found an amazing correla
tion between T. S. Eliot and Byron, while another analyzed
the archetypal qualities of the pilgrim character and the
mythic significance in the journey as a quest. One creative
ly compared Byron's rhetorical devices as an organizing prin
ciple to the expanding-contracting rhythm of a free swimming
jellyfish. An unusually astute critic defined a Byronic hero
and analyzed the poetic persona by these qualities. Another
pointed to the humanistic reasoning and expressions of inner
conflict that influenced Victorian poets; several recognized
an increased appreciation for artistic works and credited
Hobhouse's influence; in addition, they recognized the can
to's symmetry and part of the stanzaic inclusions that Hob
house insisted on.
Although some modern critics acknowledged that Canto IV
reflected Hobhouse's influence, one felt that this factor had
been considerably exaggerated. On the contrary, Hobhouse
probably controlled or influenced all aspects of Byron's
160
composition of Canto IV. An examination of his journal in
combination with Byron's letters, and a comprehensive
comparative analysis of Canto IV and Historical Illustra
ti QDH., by the author of this dissertation indicated a more
pervasive influence and persuasive domination than any critic
suspected. A serious contradiction exists if one attempts to
reconcile the scholarly aspects of the travelogue with
Byron's dissipated life style and his self-proclaimed
disinterest in Roman ruins and monuments. On the other hand,
one finds perfect harmony between the canto's subject matter
and Hobhouse's intensive research and scholarly analysis.
In previous cantos of ChiIde Harold' s PiIgri mage. Byron
had indulged in outbursts about the baseness of human nature
and dwelt on melancholy and pessimism, gloom and misanthropy.
Canto IV contained these same familiar elements, but a close
examination by this author revealed important modifications
from previous cantos. In expressing the same narcissistic
concerns, he also revealed a detached aspect of what some
critics called a divided consciousness, and for the first
time revealed a mature awareness of the disparity between
reality and the ideal of his imagination. His letters
indicated a new depth of serious introspective meditation
and a new sense of purpose. While he poetically idealized
those past glories of human accomplishment that Hobhouse
idolized, he voiced serious religious pronouncements and
clearly revealed a quest for wisdom within the historical
161
context. For the first time, Byron looked beyond himself
to see a larger world where glorious accomplishments often
transpired under great duress. Because of this insight, he
identified by poetic analogy with Tasso as an arch-example
of the exiled and persecuted poet still venerated by his
countrymen. Even though Byron failed to achieve a true
historic consciousness through this detached contemplation
(as Hobhouse so explicitly manifested), he did attain a fresh
insight into his own intellectual nature. This insight
prompted a transcendent leap of faith in which he dedicated
himself to a principle by which he lived the rest of his
life--a personal commitment to the humanitarian aspects of
political freedom. He conjectured about achieving recogni
tion, not in literature--"I do not think it my vocation"--
but doing "something or other--the times and fortune permitt-
ing--that, like the cosmogony, or creation of the world, will
puzzle the philosophers of all ages" (Marchand 5. 177).
Various poetic meditations hinted at this search for mission
as he praised the banner of Freedom for streaming "against
the wind;" condemned Europe for its "parricide" of Italy and
England for chaining Venice to tyrants; and predicted that
the nation would be redeemed from this barbaric "tide" of
history--can "Freedom find no champion?"
Much of Byron's divided consciousness probably resulted
from Hobhouse' s influence. Certainly the subject matter of
Canto IV reflected Hobhouse' s exhaustive research after
162
little known facts and minor historical figures. Further
more, the emotional expressions of affectation could have
resulted, at least partly, from Hobhouse' s persuasion that
what made Canto I and II tremendously popular was Byron's
daring "to give utterance to certain feelings which everyone
must have encouraged in the melancholy and therefore morbid
history of his existence" ( Recollecti ons 1.100). If
Byron again expressed those honest emotions, Hobhouse probab
ly thought the same readers would respond to make Canto IV
just as successful.
While Byron was a creative genius of consummate skill,
he did not write Canto IV as a spontaneous reaction to ruins
and beauty (as the critics indicated), but as a meditative
travelogue with historical overtones. His own learning was
sketchy, but he enjoyed the stimulating company of scholars
such as Hobhouse. He was a man of feeling and eloquent lan
guage, and many poetic expressions arose from conversations
with Hobhouse over significant cultural preservations and
historical changes. He verified that his friend thoroughly
researched the various subjects in remote volumes, and that
Hobhouse devotedly affirmed his (Byron's) dignity under the
worst of social conditions. Thus, one could not wonder that
Byron included such high praise in the prefatory dedication
of Canto IV. He also achieved two other purposes in the
preface--he immortalized Hobhouse while he honestly expressed
his personal gratitude for a true friend who accepted him so
163
totally in all circumstances. If Canto IV owed its creation
to Hobhouse, as much evidence suggests, then the dedication
assumes an even greater significance than previously
suspected.
On the other hand, Hobhouse was as much a contradiction
as Byron. Although he belonged to the wealthy, privileged
class, he pushed for social and legal reforms and supported
democratic movements. He was straitlaced and prudish, yet
accepted Byron's rakish lifestyle without condemnation. He
was anxious about his own shyness and reluctant to reveal his
deep feelings, but intimately involved in the social whirl of
the gentry. As a historian he envisioned in history a dram
atic pageant of man's struggles. As an antiquarian he was
interested in awesome trivia and discovered such details as
the name of a seventeenth-century Roman who allegedly raised
the dead. As a scholar he was interested in credibility and
truth, and intently examined ancient manuscripts and modern
texts delving for unusual facts and verifying small details.
Not a genius, but broadly educated and highly specialized, he
compiled treatises on famous literary and historical figures,
discoursed on destructive forces that laid waste to Rome,
chronicled the history of many ruins, and reported on
archaeological excavations in an authoritative manner.
Through tireless analysis of archaeology, art and history,
he tediously developed a text that supplied subject matter
for Canto IV, and then amplified Byron's poetic expressions.
164
Yet he had a puckish wit and love for humorous anecdotes,
enjoyed bull sessions with male friends, and recorded a full
social schedule during the era of grand dinner parties. Even
though he was Byron's harshest critic, he developed a
literary affinity with the poet that resulted in three of
the four cantos of g^ildg Harold' s Pilgrimagq.
Critics have universally overlooked Hobhouse' s absolute
influence and direct persuasive force on both the structure
and subject matter of Canto IV. They have also denied him
credible recognition for enlightening readers about vague
poetic allusions or remote historical events. Obviously
those who professed to be Byronic scholars never examined
the most revealing of all works connected to Canto IV.
Those scholars who insisted that form was all and that
meaning came from within a literary work seriously deprived
their audiences of the most distinctive and unique impli
cations underlying Canto IV. When they failed to reach
beyond the surface language, they missed the connotative
intimations that reenforced the poem's dedication "to a
friend often tried and never found wanting . . . a man of
learning, of talent, of steadiness, and of honour. "
Few if any modern scholars could manifest the profound
knowledge that Hobhouse displayed or reproduce his diligent
research techniques. Few poems have ever provided their own
elucidating text that would resolve misinterpretations or
illuminate critics' ignorance. Scholars who blindly assumed
165
that the poem expressed Byron's personal observations never
examined Byron's correspondence or the accompanying text
meant to elucidate the poem. Those who looked for the total
meaning within the canto itself missed the point, even though
they found eloquent poetry and majestic description. For
both the critic and the average reader, Hobhouse clarified
obscure writers, recited anecdotes that humanized histori
cal figures and generated awesome admiration for any civili
zation that had survived for so long. He reported on my
sterious artifacts that would challenge today's scientists.
His perfect knowledge of ancient and modern Italian allowed
him access to thousands of volumes unavailable to less spe
cialized scholars. Hobhouse did not receive critical acco
lades for his achievements, but his work illuminates Byron's
true poetic pilgrimage in ways mere surface readings can
never equal. The Canto may have been a battle of wits
between Byron and Hobhouse but, after comparing the various
supportive documents, one would question whether Canto IV
explicated Illustrati ons or whether Illustrations glossed
the canto. Was Canto IV Byron" s or Hobhouse' s observations .
of Italy? Certainly a variety of evidence suggests that the
commonly accepted assumptions about the poetic production
could be wrong.
In the accrued benefits of using Hobhouse' s text to
elucidate the canto, the modern reader would not puzzle
over the poetic inclusion of places like Nemi or Albano. He
166
could understand the significance of apostles' statues con
nected with the Mole of Hadrian, or why Byron praised some
body named Rienzi. An especial benefit would accrue in the
incredibly detailed church history gleaned from papal scribes
and Vatican volumes.
Hobhouse never received the credit he deserved for
his patient labor, but the reader of Canto IV who missed his
text was the poorer for it. However, a few disadvantages
hinder a studious appraisal of Hobhouse' s volume. For
one, no American reader could possibly be sensitive to all
the allusions of literary and historical figures included in
the poem. A serious study of Hi stori cal 111ustrations
would require more time than most (even scholars) would will
ingly devote to a poem. Also, Hobhouse' s penchant for abso
lute truth and whimsical detail would saturate the reader's
mind as he waded through the grammatical exactness of complex
convoluted sentences. Even so, Hobhouse' s scholarly inter
pretations and eloquent reflections on the land of Dante and
Petrarch might stimulate a modern tourist to take a copy of
Hobhouse's book when touring Italy--if the traveler could get
one. No one who has read Illustrations can doubt that
Hobhouse was as fascinated with Italy as was Byron, though
for totally different reasons, and that he echoed Byron' s
sentiments: "With all its sinful doings, I must say,/
That Italy's a pleasant place to be."
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