Conversations on Religion, with Lord Byron
Third Conversation
I then took leave of Lord B., and rode down
to see an officer who lived a mile beyond his house, and on my return I met his lordship
and Count Gamba riding home with great speed, for a
heavy shower had just come on.
On reflecting on all that had passed, I thought there were many things which I
should have added, and others which I ought to have expressed in a manner more forcible and
clear. I thought I had done wrong also in allowing the subject to engross me so much, as I
feared lest my long conversation would rather tire than interest him. On examination,
however, it appeared to me, that Lord B. shewed no signs
of weariness, but continued as attentive and active at the close as at the commencement.
His ideas were rapid, and his associations very singular. He was lively and
animated, and,
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though apparently expressing his real sentiments,
there was never any great degree of seriousness mixed with them, nor did he ever allow any
opportunity of uttering a pun, or saying a smart thing, to escape him. It was impossible,
from the rapidity of his manner and ideas, that the conversation should be very connected,
and I was often obliged to bring him back to the subject when he wandered from it, which I
did indeed so intentionally and incessantly, that it could only have been justified by the
circumstance, that there was an implied understanding that I visited him only on account of
religion; and therefore it was excusable in me to make as much of my time as possible, in
order to convince him of its truth.
There was nothing in his manner which approached to levity, or any thing that
indicated a wish to mock at religion; though, on the other hand, an able dissembler could
have done and said all that he did with such feelings and intentions. On the whole, I was
satisfied that I had endeavoured simply to do my duty, but I was not satisfied that I had
done it well; while I am perfectly uncertain what impression was made on Lord B.’s mind.
I was not able to visit him so soon as I had intended, as I was seized with a
sore throat, which confined me to my room for several days. In the mean time some of our
friends visited him, and the conversation with each turned more or less upon me, and on
what I had said to him; and what he said was repeated to me by those to whom he had spoken.
I asked one gentleman who was rather intimate with him; “Do you
really think that Lord B. is serious in his
expressed desire of hearing religion explained: has he exhibited any contempt or
ridicule at what I said? I wish to know the truth; because, if his lordship merely
wishes to enjoy the novelty of a religious scene, and to study characters, it would be
useless to give myself any farther trouble about him: but if he is in earnest, then it
is my duty to do all that I can.”
The gentleman assured me, that he had never heard Lord
B. allude to the subject in any way which could induce him to suspect that
he was merely amusing himself, “But on the contrary,” said he,
“he always names you with respect. But,” he added, “I do
not think you have made much impression on him; he is just the same fellow as before.
He says he does not know what religion
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you are of, for you
neither adhered to creeds nor councils—that you were very frank and liberal, and
confined yourself to the Scriptures alone, without caring anything about the
speculations of Divines. He likes this, but he does not understand your doctrine of the
Trinity, as you seem to separate the Persons from the Essence, and make the Essence
quite distinct and separate.”
I said I was sorry Lord B. had
misunderstood me on both points. In the first place, my religion is not new; it is the
religion of all real Christians, whether in the church of England, Scotland, or among the
Dissenters, abstracted from all speculation about ceremonies and external
worship;—things which are of minor importance, and on which so many differ, should
not be brought before his lordship’s mind at present. My object was to fix his
attention on the fundamental doctrines of Christianity, respecting which all Christians
were agreed. With respect to the second point, the mistake was equally great; for I had
expressly stated that the three Holy Persons in the Trinity were the same in essence,
though I had said that this essence could never be perfectly comprehended by us, even in
our highest state of enjoyment in heaven: for how could a finite being
comprehend one who is infinite? “I am glad you have mentioned these things to
me, as it is of importance that I should undeceive him; for I should be vexed, if he
imagined that I had a new scheme of religion, or that I entered into incomprehensible
and speculative opinions of the Deity, which I had always to him so strongly condemned,
as indicating a weakness of understanding.”
The wits of the garrison made themselves merry with what was going on, and
passed many jokes on the subject. Some of them affected to believe,—I know not on
what ground,—that Lord B.’s wish to hear me
proceeded from his desire to have an accurate idea of the opinions and manners of the
Methodists, in order that he might make Don Juan become
one for a time, and thus paint their conduct with the greater accuracy and fidelity: some
of them did not hesitate to tell me that this was the case, and that, if I were wise, I
should let his lordship alone.
My answer was short and decided. “I could not affirm that Lord B. had not the intentions they ascribed to him, but
if he had, he did not act like a gentleman in wishing, of his own accord and at his own
request, to be introduced to me, to hear me on these subjects: but if such were
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his design, it would have no effect upon me, as I neither feared
his ridicule nor his poetry, and would therefore converse with him on the subject till
such time as it was more certain what his secret intentions were.”
After I was recovered, I took the first opportunity of going out to visit his
lordship. I arrived about eleven, and found him at home and disengaged. He said he was
sorry to hear I had been ill. “I intended, if it had continued longer, to call and
visit you.” I thanked him for his politeness, and said, “It was
fortunately a very slight illness, but that poor M. and his wife were very unwell.” His lordship expressed
himself sorry to hear it, and inquired how he was. “The cause of his illness is
very strange. How could a man in his senses act as he did? If he recover, it will be a
lesson to him for the future.” I assured him much of what had been said was
exaggerated, and trusted, that if he recovered, which I hoped, for his own sake and that of
his friends, he would, his illness would tend to fix his mind seriously upon those subjects
which he had hitherto derided. “You have made no convert of him, I
believe,” said his lordship. “How does S. get on? Is he in a fair way
still?” “He continues,” I replied, “to read
the Bible, to reflect on these subjects, and he has read several books which I gave
him; and though he is not convinced, his progress hitherto is so far
pleasing.”
“Has your lordship,” I said, “read any of the
books I took the liberty of sending?” “I have looked into
Boston, but have not had time to read far. I
am afraid it is too deep for me!” “Be not afraid,” I
said, “but continue, and you will find it easier than you imagine; for how can
that be deep which the most illiterate people understand? The scroll that I sent you
about Warburton, perhaps you will not be able to
make out; if you will give it to me now, I will read it to you, as you may find my
hand-writing difficult. “Not at all,” said his lordship,
“I mean to give all you have sent me a serious perusal; but of late I have
been busy with my correspondence, and in preparing to set out for
Greece.” “When does your lordship
depart?” “I have not fixed the time; I shall wait for
information, and to hear further from Trelawny
and Brown. The discord and dissensions among the
Greeks are still unsettled.” “Would it not be better for
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your lordship to wait here, and, by your counsels and
correspondence, keep the discordant parties in check? for each will hope to gain your
favour and approbation. If you go into Greece, you must unite with one party,
consequently the other will immediately become your
enemy.” “That scheme may be good, and it accords with my wishes.
I like this place, I do not know why, and dislike to move. There are not, to be sure,
many allurements here, neither from the commodiousness of the house nor the bleak view
of the black mountain,—there is no learned society,—nor the presence of
beautiful women; and yet, for all that, I would wish to remain, as I have found myself
more comfortable, and my time passes more cheerfully than it has for a long time
done.” “Why not remain longer, then? your health and comfort
ought to be among the first objects of your consideration; nor ought they to be
sacrificed, unless you were certain that your presence in Greece would be attended with
advantages, which is still doubtful; while your presence here, and your counsels,
cannot fail to diminish the conflict of the contending parties, and hold in some degree
the balance between them.” He said, “I have
pledged myself in the cause, and something is expected from me; whether I can do any
good, I know not; but I cannot recede, and being so near, it will be attributed to
other motives than prudential or political, if I remain here. After all, it is my own
indolence that makes me dislike to move; for though I have been a sort of wanderer on
the earth, I have always quitted each place of residence with some regret, from a
dislike of trouble and care, I suppose.” I replied, “If you go to
Greece, you will find it difficult to procure that quiet and retirement which are
conducive to health. Your name, your money, are objects of too much importance and
influence not to excite the hopes of the different parties; and you will be forced into
public life, whether you will or no, and may be led into scenes which will be
displeasing to your humanity. Amidst the barbarous and unprincipled chiefs and
partizans in Greece, a chief of superior power, influence, energy, and decision, is
required—a sort of Buonaparte, who will
execute the laws with severity and rigour, and compel obedience, by awe and terror,
among men who are too much influenced by party spirit and selfish views to listen to
the voice of humanity or justice. 216 | CONVERSATIONS ON RELIGION | |
This is wanted among the
lawless and turbulent sons of Greece; and he who is not prepared to act with energy,
and enforce obedience, even by a terror and severity which are foreign to his nature,
is very little likely to do much good in Greece.” “I know the
Greeks,” said his lordship, “well, and know also, that when I go
over, I shall be beset by the different parties, to some of whom, who shall find out my
weak side, I shall become the prey; and be with them a favourite as long as my name and
money can be of any use to them.”
Count G. here entered the room, and some general
conversation was held about the weather and news: after a few moments he retired, and the
conversation was resumed between his lordship and myself.
“You will have an opportunity of seeing probably today Lord Sidney Osborne, from
Corfu.” “When did he arrive?” asked his lordship.
“Last night.” “What did he come
for?” “I do not know,” I said; “but rumour
says it is simply to pay you a visit.” “I am very glad of it, I
have not seen him a long time; we are relations. He is a merry fellow, and has some
fine qualities, but I do not know if he is very reli-
gious. Do you
know him?” I answered,
“No.” “Then,” he said, “you must stay,
and try and convert him.” I said, “I willingly would if I could, but
that I had no great encouragement from those whom I had already tried, to begin with
new ones; let me first convert your lordship, and you can assist me in converting
others; your name, example, and eloquence, will then have great effect, and pave the
way for great success.”
“I have begun,” he said, “very fairly; I have
given some of your tracts to Fletcher, who is a
good sort of man, but still wants, like myself, some reformation, and I hope he will
spread them among the other servants, who require it still more. Bruno and Gamba
are busy reading some of the Italian tracts, and I hope it will have a good effect upon
them. The former is rather too decided against it at present, and too much engaged with
a spirit of enthusiasm for his own profession, to attend to other subjects; but we must
have patience, and we shall see what has been the result.” “I
pray that it may be a good one, but let them not want your good example, which you know
must have a powerful influence upon them.”
“I do not fail,” he said, “to read from time to
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time my Bible, though not so much, perhaps, as I
should.” “Have you begun to pray that you may understand
it?” “Not yet,” he said, “I have not arrived
at that pitch of faith yet, but it may come by-and-by; you are in too great a hurry.
Remember how long you have been with S. and
M., and the others, and consider what
progress they have made. Does S., the most hopeful of these,
pray?” “No,” I said,“I hardly believed it;
for a few days ago he told me he did not see the use of prayer, as God, who knew our
thoughts before we could utter them, required no formal act, and form of words, which
could convey no new information to him.” “Well, and what said
you to that?” “I reasoned with him on the subject—told him
it was a positive duty commanded—that it would not have been so, had it not been
useful—that it was an act of worship, and adoration, due to the Creator, and a
means of grace: inasmuch as the effect left on the mind was always conducive to virtue
and piety, and kept us in a proper frame for fulfilling all our various duties, in
thought, word, and deed.” “But you have not convinced
him?” “No, I know too well the folly and pride of the heart. It
is the last, and one of the most difficult acts of conviction, to force a sinner on his knees; but when once he is reduced to this, his
case is hopeful. When I see you or any of the others in this state, I shall then begin
to entertain very favourable hopes of you.” “And till then, you
will think us in a bad way?” “Certainly, and
decidedly.” “But,” I continued, “we must not
despair; continue to read the Scriptures, to reflect on what you read, and this first
and most important point, prayer, will be soon gained, and its utility and necessity
will be in time enforced clearly on your mind, better than by any argument that I can
use.”
“There was a book,” said his lordship, “which I
intended to shew you; I believe it is here,” going to a side-table on which a
great number of books were ranged. He soon took hold of an octavo, and shewed it to me. I
looked at the title-page, and found it “Illustrations of the Moral Government of God, by E. Smith, M. D., London.” “Have you seen
it?” asked his lordship. “No,” I said, “I had
neither seen it nor heard of it: what is its object?” “The
author,” he replied, “proves that the punishment of hell is not
eternal—it will have a termination.” “This is no new
doctrine,” I said: “the author, I suppose, is one of the
Socinians, who in a short time
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will try to get
rid of every doctrine in the Bible; and terminate (which, indeed, if they were
consistent, they would already have done) in pure deism. How did your lordship get hold
of this book?” “They sent it out to me from England, to make a
convert of me, I suppose: the arguments he uses are strong. He draws them from the
Bible itself, and by shewing that a time will come when every intelligent creature
shall be supremely happy, and eternally so, he expunges that shocking doctrine, that
sin and misery will for ever exist under the government of a God whose highest
attribute is love and goodness; and thus, by removing one of the greatest difficulties,
reconciles us to the wise and good Creator whom the Scriptures reveal.”
“But,” I said, “how does he account for the
existence of sin and misery in the world at present, and for its having existed six
thousand years? This is equally inconsistent with the idea of the pure love and
goodness of God, or such a notion of it, to the exclusion of his justice and holiness;
and if they exist now in our time, as no one can deny, without being incompatible with
the Divine goodness, why may not sin and misery exist for ever, if sinners remain
impenitent, and
refuse the only remedy which can render them
good, without being inconsistent with his
attributes?” “Nay,” he said, “that is not a
strong argument; for a good God can permit sin to exist for a while, but evince his
goodness and power at last, by rooting it all out, and rendering all his creatures
happy.” “I admit he can, but still the principle I contend for
holds good,—that, for aught we know, sin may exist for ever, if it can exist for
a while, without being inconsistent with the Divine attributes; for what is not
inconsistent at one time, cannot be so at another; and the fact, whether the case will
be so or not, will depend on other principles than the mere consistency or
inconsistency of sin and misery under a divine government. Its duration, whether
through time or eternity, must depend upon some other principle.”
“Well,” he replied, “it proves the goodness of
God, and is more consistent with the notions of our reason, to believe, that if God,
for wise purposes, permitted sin to exist for a while, in order, perhaps, to bring
about a greater good than could have been effected without it, that his goodness will
be more strikingly manifested, in anticipating the time when every intelligent
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creature will be purified from sin, and relieved from misery, and
rendered permanently happy.”
“It would,” I said, “certainly be more suitable
to our ideas of humanity, to believe that hell, or a place of punishment, did not
exist, of that finally it will be abolished, and all, even the devils, rendered happy;
but our ideas and notions, imperfect as we acknowledge ourselves, cannot surely be the
measure by which to judge of God, nor the rule by which he will act. As of ourselves we
cannot ascertain, either by conjecture, hypothesis, or experiment, anything about
eternity, except what God is pleased to reveal to us, his revelation must decide the
point; and we must receive it precisely as it is given, and neither believe more nor
less than what he reveals: and if he reveals a temporary hell, we may believe it, and
rejoice at it, for the sake of those who die impenitent; but if he reveals a hell of
eternal duration, we must receive it, and grant God to know, rather better than we can,
what is compatible with his goodness, and infer with certainty that it must be so, or
it would not be.” “Come,” said his lordship,
“the author founds his belief on the very Scriptures
themselves.” “What does he say?” I asked.
“Here,” said his lordship,
handing the book,
“you may find many passages in the Bible, where the word Everlasting, or
Eternal, signifies limited duration.” I took the book, and looked over
several extracts, in which the word aim, which simply signifies age, is read, for a limited
time; from which the author inferred that it might probably always signify the
same—that when eternal punishment is mentioned, it only means punishment from ages to
ages, but never implies that it will have no termination.
After glancing over a few pages, I said, “If the author has no
further evidence of the limited duration of eternal punishment than these critical
reasonings upon the meaning of words in the Greek language, and presumes that this
doctrine is more suitable to our ideas of the infinite goodness of God, I am afraid he
will find himself miserably mistaken, when time shall have an end, and when duration is
no longer measured by the heavenly bodies—when, as we have reason to believe,
existence will be eternal, without limit or termination. This existence after time, and
what is meant by Eternal in our language, the Greeks have no other way of expressing
than by the word αίώυιος, from age to age,
forever, eternal: when the word is applied to things and objects of this
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world, it must be understood from the nature of the subject, and
implies a duration commensurate with the existence of the present state of things; but
when it is applied to things after the close of the present state, as is the case when
the last judgment is pronounced, it must clearly be understood to refer to eternity, or
an existence without measure of time or duration, as it is used evidently to denote
such a state of existence. I should like to know, from the author, what other word the
Greek language affords to express eternity. If the word αίώυιος often and
necessarily implies limited duration, it does so because it is applied to temporal
things, but the phrase είς
αίωνας
αίώνων, never, as far as I have known,
is applied to temporal things, but to what is eternal, and is never employed but when
speaking of existence after the termination of this world. It is strictly equivalent to
our for ever and ever, which implies duration without end; and
it has no more been deemed necessary to repeat αίων, &c. &c., than it has been to
repeat the words ever and ever more frequently in our language for the expression of
eternity.”
Were it granted, therefore, that in the Scripture these terms
indiscriminately are applied to
time, and to proper
eternity,—which, however, is not the case, since there is always a reduplication of
the phrase when applied to eternity,—is it a proper conclusion that there is no
strict eternity, since we have no word exclusively to express it, and because we, in the
looseness of language, apply the same terms to both states of things? This, surely, no man
of common reasoning would contend for. The author, therefore, has puzzled and confused
himself with words. He must allow that there is an eternity, or unlimited duration after
time. If he allows it, then he must shew that the Greek language could have furnished other
and better terms to express unlimited duration, and there would be some force in his
argument; but as he cannot, it is a most absurd and ridiculous conclusion, that because the
same word or phrase is applied to both states, that one only, to wit, limited duration,
exists. This would, indeed, make us slaves to terms. I have always understood that words
are received in a greater or less latitude, according to the nature of the objects to which
they are applied, and that one word or phrase is always modified in the meaning by the
context. “But,” I continued, “there are other and still more
irresistible 226 | CONVERSATIONS ON RELIGION | |
grounds on which the author may be confuted. It is a
complete and virtual denial of the atonement and death of Christ, and of the whole
scheme of salvation as taught in the Scriptures. If purgatory is to take place, not
after the sinner’s death, but after the last judgment, and is to have the effect
of purifying a man from sin, by some mode which he does not explain, (after a greater
or less extent of duration,) what was the use of Christ’s coming into the
world? Both this scheme, and that of the Roman Catholic purgatory, is absurd; though
this far surpasses the other: for the former is to terminate at the last
judgment,—this to take place after it; and if either were true,—if an
expiation of sin could be made by suffering,—then faith in Christ, and the
renovation of the character by the influence of the Holy Spirit, is vain. The few that
would be saved and rendered fit for heaven in the former way, would bear no comparison
with the number of those ultimately saved by bearing the punishment of their own sins.
And it may be asked why was such a preparation of miracles and prophecies made to
announce the approach of Christ,—and why did the Divine nature submit to take a
human form, and bear the sufferings of a persecuted life and
ignominious death? Will all these men have a day of judgment set apart for them, in
order that it may be decided whether they are sufficiently absolved, and fit for
heaven; or will each be taken up as his period expires? And how, and by what means, are
their united natures to be changed,—are they to become holy, pure, and obedient
under the torments of punishment? For it is not clearly seen how punishment can change
the heart; it is now rather to harden it,—and the whole scheme of the Christian
revelation is decidedly against it; for if the one is true, the other cannot be
so.”
“But why are you,” said his lordship, “so anxious
to maintain and prove the eternity of hell punishments? It is certainly not a humane
doctrine, and appears very inconsistent with the mild and benevolent doctrines of
Christ.” “I maintain it,” I said, “because it
is revealed in the Scriptures, and because a disbelief in it renders the whole of the
doctrines of Christ perfectly unnecessary, and is quite subversive of them; and it
appears nothing else than a delusion of the devil to persuade men to continue in sin
here, under the assurance that it will be well with them at last.”
“A real Christian has, in one sense, the least
228 | CONVERSATIONS ON RELIGION | |
occasion, of all others, to think about the punishment of hell. It is not a motive of
his obedience—because he obeys from love to Christ. He has no occasion to dread
the punishment of hell, since Christ has ransomed him from this by his blood, and
prepared him for heaven,—bestowing on him faith, and sanctifying him by the
influence of his spirit. But it is the Christian’s duty, from a love to the
revealed will of God, and from humanity to his fellow creature, to prevent the
Scriptures from being perverted; and to demonstrate the danger of those erroneous
opinions, which lead men to sinful actions, or to the neglect of that great salvation,
by which alone they can escape that punishment which must be eternal.”
“I cannot decide the point,” said his lordship.
“But, to my present apprehension, it would be a most desirable thing, could it
be proved, that ultimately all created beings were to be happy. This would appear to be
most consistent with the nature of God, whose power is omnipotent, and whose principal
attribute is love. I cannot yield to your doctrine of the eternal duration of
punishment; this author’s opinion is more humane, and I think he supports it very
strongly from Scripture.” “Well,” I said, “I
am sorry that I cannot con-
vince your lordship, and I am also
sorry that I have been led to say so much on a subject which has occupied the place of
others still more important; but in order to shew you that there is no force in the
arguments of this author, I shall, if you please, take the book home and put down
reasons on paper, which I think will satisfy you, as you will have an opportunity of
deliberately considering the question.” “Do so,” said
he, “I shall then with more leisure examine the subject*.”
“You have sent me,” said Lord
B., “an account of the death of Lord
Rochester, as a tract, par excellence, having a
particular reference to me.” “Something of this sort was in my
mind when I put up this tract with the others; but my principal wish was to give you a
copy of each of the tracts in my possession, in hope that, as they are all good and
short, something in one or other of them might arrest your
attention.” “But,” added he, “I am not quite
satisfied with Lord Rochester’s conversion; there will
always remain this uncertainty about it, that perhaps had he recovered, and been placed
among his former companions, he would have relapsed: and while this uncertainty
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prevails, we can never be assured of his real
conversion.” I admitted that this was true; yet, I added, “we shall be
perfectly satisfied if we find that your lordship, who follows him in some points,
should also preserve a resemblance of him at his
departure.” “What, do you wish me to die so early, without
giving due and unequivocal proofs of my conversion, and making atonement for past
sins?” He said this smiling. “No,” I said, “I
wish your life to be long preserved, and that you may become as eminent a Christian as
you are at present a great man. But should this be the case, we may be allowed to wish
that your latter end may be like his, and though we cannot be assured of your
salvation, yet we shall have every reason which the case admits, to believe you are
safe, without any such paltry doubts; for you will have given all the proof which
circumstances permitted of the reality of your conversion.”
“Lord Rochester did everything
that a man could do, to prove the sincerity of his conversion; and the presumption is,
that had he lived he would have done more. No Christian can entertain any doubt with
respect to him, though I allow that his case cannot be brought forward as an
irrefragable argument with one who doubts, or who
has never felt
in his own heart the spirit of true religion.”
“I have looked,” said his lordship, “into
‘Leslie’s Short Method with the Deists,’ and I am not
perfectly satisfied with his mode of reasoning. It does not appear to me by any means
so demonstrative as many imagine.” “I admit,” I said,
“there are many other views of Christianity likely to produce a greater
impression on a doubting mind than this work. But you must remember, that this book is
confined to a particular point, and is irresistibly demonstrative; though a person
might acknowledge the force of the reasoning, without comprehending much of
Christianity, or becoming one whit a better Christian.”
We were here interrupted by the arrival of a visitor in the courtyard, and as
I conjectured it to be Lord S., I arose to depart;
“Do stay,” said his lordship, “and we shall have dinner
immediately, your conversation will be useful, perhaps, to Lord
S.” “Excuse me for the present; as you are friends,
and relatives, and have not met for a long time, you must have much to say; and
Lord S. is not likely to be in a humour to care about serious
conversations.” We then walked to the door, and as we descended the stairs.
Lord B. was standing
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at the
head, and called out, “I really wish you could convert this wild fellow of a lord,
he has as much need of it as I have.” I smiled, and said, “You see
my task is sufficiently heavy with you. Let us wait till we finish your conversion, and
we can commence his with better spirits, and with your assistance.”
Thomas Boston (1676-1732)
Scottish minister, evangelical Calvinist, and popular author.
James Hamilton Browne (1834 fl.)
A Scotsman who accompanied Byron on his second expedition to Greece and was instrumental
in arranging and delivering the first Greek Loan.
Francesco Bruno (d. 1828 c.)
Byron's physician on his second expedition to Greece in 1823-24; he was afterwards in
Switzerland, and died at Naples.
William Fletcher (1831 fl.)
Byron's valet, the son of a Newstead tenant; he continued in service to the end of the
poet's life, after which he was pensioned by the family. He married Anne Rood, formerly
maid to Augusta Leigh, and was living in London in 1831.
Pietro Gamba (1801-1827)
The brother of Teresa Guiccioli and member of Carbonieri. He followed Byron to Greece and
left a memoir of his experiences.
Charles Leslie (1650-1722)
Irish non-juring clergyman, Jacobite, and controversial writer who wrote against
Tillotson, Sherlock, Burnet, and other Whig figures.
Henry Muir (1790 c.-1826 fl.)
The Health Officer at Argostoli when Byron visited; some notes on Byron were published in
Notes and Queries by his son, H. Skey Muir, in 1884.
Emperor Napoleon I (1769-1821)
Military leader, First Consul (1799), and Emperor of the French (1804), after his
abdication he was exiled to Elba (1814); after his defeat at Waterloo he was exiled to St.
Helena (1815).
Lord Sidney Godolphin Osborne (1789-1861)
He was the son of Sir Francis Godolphin Osborne, fifth duke of Leeds by his second
marriage, the first having ended in divorce after Amelia Darcy (mother of Augusta Leigh)
eloped with Byron's father.
George Scott (1825 fl.)
Assistant-surgeon of the 8th Regiment of Foot (1822-25); he was stationed in Cephalonia
where he was a friend of James Kennedy.
Thomas Southwood Smith (1788-1861)
Physician and Unitarian minister; he was the author of
Illustrations of
the Divine Government, tending to show that everything is under the Direction of
infinite Wisdom and Goodness (1816).
Edward John Trelawny (1792-1881)
Writer, adventurer, and friend of Shelley and Byron; author of the fictionalized memoirs,
Adventures of a Younger Son (1831) and
Recollections of the Last Days of Shelley and Byron (1858).
William Warburton (1698-1779)
English Divine and man of letters; he was bishop of Gloucester (1759); he was the friend,
annotator, and executor of Alexander Pope.