The Darcys and Lord Byron in Venice: Part 2

As the gondola pulled away from the Grand Canal, and out into the wide lagoon, the waves began to toss and the shifting, sun-filled clouds made dappled reflections on the silvery sea.  The ancient buildings with their delicate tracery silhouetted against the magnificent expanse of sky and shining water, merged into a series of exquisite pictures. Elizabeth stared, almost overcome with enchantment, and held her breath. Darcy smiled, and Lord Byron cocked his head at her. “I always like seeing an innocent young person out on the lagoon for the first time,” he observed. “There is something so refreshing in their rapture.”

Elizabeth felt that she was being laughed at. “But you love it yourself,” she said. “As many times as you have taken this ride, you have never grown tired of it.”

“Quite true. I fell in love with Venice before ever I saw it; as a boy, it was the fairy city of my imagination. It was perhaps the only time in my life that reality turned out to be better than the dream.”

“One could traverse these islands again and again, and never tire of the views,” nodded Mr. Darcy.

“I believe you are taking us to this monastery island as a mere excuse to get out upon the water,” said Elizabeth archly.

“As to that – no. I have a purpose in my visits to San Lazzaro degli Armeni. One cannot always be tossing in ravishment without ballast; and I require some good hard study. The Armenian language is difficult enough to fit that bill admirably. And then, yes, there is the daily ride back and forth. Sometimes I swim.”

“What, swim all this distance?” asked Darcy incredulously. “That must be most hazardous – it is a mile or two at least, I should think, and with what currents!”

“It can be done, if one is an athlete,” said Byron carelessly. “It is only in swimming that you truly become one with the lagoon: like a peculiarly forked Venetian fish. But here we are, nearing the island, and I see Father Pascal Auscher has come out to welcome us. He is the monastery’s librarian, a most learned man.”

Lord Byron arriving at San Lazzaro

 Several black-clad Armenian Benedictine monks waited on the island’s edge, to draw in the gondola and help the travelers ashore.  Father Pascal spoke perfect English and after the introductions were made, he politely offered to show the Darcys about the low-lying pink stone buildings, church, and rose gardens, while his lordship did his daily portion of work in the library.  Lord Byron good-naturedly accompanied them on the start of their tour, pointing out the marvels of the library building, with the innumerable Armenian tomes that lined the walls, and the beautiful mosaic floors and ceiling painted by Tiepolo.

“Are you writing poetry in the Armenian?” Elizabeth dared to ask.

“I? Oh, heavens no. My mind, as I say, wanted something craggy to break upon, and it been almost broken in mastering thirty of the thirty-eight scratches of their cursed alphabet, thus far.”

“Do you require difficulty for its own sake?” Darcy inquired.

“Not entirely. There are classical secrets to uncover. Certain ancient texts, lost translations from the Greek originals, exist still in the Armenian. There is even an ancient manuscript about the life of Alexander the Great.”

“It is very good of the friars to teach you,” said Darcy.

Byron gave him a quick look. “Yes, very.  They will not take money, so the only way I have found to repay them for their teaching is by translating and publishing their Armenian English grammar. And that is another exacting task.”

“So you are doing both scholarly and poetical work?” asked Elizabeth. “It seems too much for one man to do at the same time.”

“What is life if not lived intensely, Mrs. Darcy?” he said, his eyes burning as he faced her. “I must do the most work, have the most experience. We shall all be dead in a trice, so exertion must come now. I do divide the labour, and refrain from writing poetry on San Lazzaro.  I leave that for my home task, at night. At present I am completing the last canto of my Childe Harold. You have perhaps read the earlier sections.”

Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled, but her husband answered for her.  “Yes, my wife and I have read the earlier Cantos together, and admired them greatly. Her reading is remarkably good, and I believe she knows some of the stanzas by heart, do not you, Elizabeth?”

“That is no unusual achievement, when a work is so famous,” she replied demurely. “I can say this much, the opening:

  Whilome in Albion’s isle there dwelt a youth,

   Who ne in virtue’s ways did take delight;

   But spent his days in riot most uncouth,

   And vexed with mirth the drowsy ear of Night.

   Ah, me! in sooth he was a shameless wight,

   Sore given to revel and ungodly glee;

   Few earthly things found favour in his sight

   Save concubines and carnal companie,

And flaunting wassailers of high and low degree.

I wonder how truthful a portrayal that may be of your Lordship’s self?” she asked archly.

“You can probably recognize the intensity of pleasure as well as work, as a true enough picture of me,” he replied with a small bow.  “But your recitation, its tones, its expression, its understanding, is something extraordinary; I suspect your wife, Mr. Darcy, of having blue stockings!”

“She has a very fine mind, your Lordship, but I believe a description of her as a bluestocking is inaccurate.”

“I do have a sister who might be called one,” Elizabeth spoke up. “Mary is reading almost all the time she is awake; and she makes extracts.”

“Ah, that is not a blue-stocking, that is a pedant,” Lord Byron replied. “Is she as pretty as yourself?”

Elizabeth did not answer and her husband replied, “No, to be truthful, Miss Mary is rather plain.”

“Ah, I was in hopes she was as lovely as your good wife, both in mind and in beauty,” he said, stretching out his arm expressively.  Elizabeth lowered her eyes, and Mr. Darcy said: “You give me reason to recite now, your Lordship. You have written a poem yourself, that has always put me in mind of my Lizzy:

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies

And all that’s best of dark and bright

Meets in her aspect and her eyes.”

Lord Byron smiled appreciatively. “Most well applied, sir,” he said.  “And in return, I will share with you a portion of my Fourth Canto, that I have not sent to the publisher yet. It is about Venice, and may do to commemorate this very meeting:

I stood in Venice, on the Bridge of Sighs;

A palace and a prison on each hand:

I saw from out the wave her structures rise

As from the stroke of the enchanters wand.”

“That is beautiful! Thank you!” exclaimed Elizabeth, her dark eyes shining. Lord Byron gazed back at her intently.

“We must leave Lord Byron to do his work, my dear,” said Darcy quietly, “shall we have our walk now?” She took his arm.

A young friar accompanied them, and after showing them such curiosities as an Egyptian mummy, some rare papyrus manuscripts and ancient bronze armaments, they were relieved and lightened to step out into the garden, filled with early roses, which, the friar explained, the brothers made into rose petal jam.

Armenian monastery, San Lazzaro

By late afternoon Elizabeth was tired, and relieved that Lord Byron thought two hours of hard study sufficient. The monks served them a collation of bread and cheese and their own wine in the refectory, which was not then in use for the mealtime of the ninety monks; and then the visitors were escorted by a monastic contingent down to his lordship’s fancifully embellished private gondola. The ride back to their palazzo on the Grand Canal, was even more beautiful than the morning one, and they exclaimed with delight at the wash of purple colours the sky was taking on.

 

Lord Byron civilly invited the Darcys to dine in his quarters, and they thought it not polite to refuse. They were waited upon by many servants (“Fourteen,” he said casually), who laid out a fine Italian feast for them. A  handsome, fleshy Italian woman of perhaps thirty, her bosoms spilling out of her tight satin gown, sat at the table and kept her eyes fixed on Byron, moodily glancing at Elizabeth from time to time, but he barely bothered to introduce her, only commenting, “She is an opera singer, but does not speak English.” She neither sang nor spoke, but ate steadily and silently.

 Byron himself ate only biscuits and water, and Darcy wondered he had so little appetite, when the repast was so excellent. “These sausages with lentils – “

“Cotechino col Salgravi,” said Byron with a smile. “A famous Venetian dish.”

“And this cheese stew – what flavor!”

“Latticini tiratti, yes, but I can’t eat it myself. The truth is that I have only too much appetite,” Byron said ruefully. “I am forced to eat little, or I swell up like a balloon. To tell the truth, I enjoy the athletic exercise part of the business more than the starving.”

“You swim every day, then?”

“No, my exercise is mostly taken with women,” Byron admitted.  Elizabeth did not know where to look, and tried to think that he meant walking.

“It is a kind of exercise I can do many times a day; and it is always interesting to have a great variety,” he said easily.

Darcy rose to his feet, towering over the lounging lordship. “I am sure you will excuse us, Lord Byron,” he said evenly, “we are not yet so Italianized as for me to wish to expose my wife to such talk.”

Countess Teresa Guiccioli, Byron’s last mistress

 

“Please admit my apologies,” said Lord Byron, with an airy wave, “if I have offended you; and be assured that I will say no more of such things. Surely you will not hold against me my little push to discover if you might like to ‘go native,’ the pair of you, and partake of the Italian sport. Most people do, I assure you, for it is all mistresses and cavalier servientes here, and no one thinks of taking any offense. It is just as you please.”

Elizabeth held her napkin to her mouth in fascination and horror, and rose to stand beside her husband without a word.

“Yes, I should have enjoyed playing the game with both of you – your wife has the most bewitching eyes I ever beheld, and you are a fine figure yourself. But if it is not to be, I will say no more of the subject. Do not be uneasy, but stay and enjoy the last course.  Seleni – nuts you would call them, almonds and chestnuts, as well as pears and oranges, and some very fine coffee. We can talk of poetry. Have you read my friend Shelley?”

“I am sorry, but I am afraid we cannot stay,” said Darcy with a cold bow.

“Never mind,” said Byron, lifting his glass with perfect self composure. “The Carnival is fast approaching, and with it, new amusements and intrigue for me. Be warned that you may find it too debauched a scene for yourselves, but I will not bore you again about my dissipations.  I bid you good night, good people.”

Darcy drew Elizabeth’s arm through his, and ushered her with quick footsteps out of Byron’s part of the palazzo and back into their own.

They did not speak until they were within the confines of their own garden, dark but for the chandeliers glittering from within the palace.  “My dearest Elizabeth,” said Darcy, evidently deeply distressed, “I am more sorry than I can say, to have risked your being insulted by such a man. I had believed that in spite of the stories about his broken marriage and his personal oddities, Lord Byron was a gentleman.”

“An eccentric gentleman, to be sure,” she said, with a little laugh, shaking her head.  “I do not blame you at all, or even regret the encounter; for we have not been harmed. Lord Byron only harms himself. Indeed, I feel very sorry for him.”

“Sorry for him – for that blackguard, that cad!” exclaimed Darcy. “I love your kindness of heart, Elizabeth, but to pity wickedness is going too far.”

“Is it not to be pitied?” she asked. “He has such a darkened mind! It must be a constant source of pain to him. You do not think he is happy in his debaucheries and his cynicicm, do you?  I am convinced he must be miserable.”

Darcy scoffed. “Miserable – in his palace, with his monkeys and mistresses! His fame and his fortune. Well, I only hope we do not encounter him again.”

“We probably never shall,” Elizabeth reassured him soothingly.

As she was preparing for bed, she was surprised when the little Italian maid who brushed her hair slipped back into the chamber after the brushing, and with an appealing but silent look, slipped a note into her hand. Elizabeth opened it before even thinking what it might be, and found herself reading an invitation from his lordship, to slip out and meet him in the garden at midnight, if she would like to continue their discussion of – poetry.

Elizabeth crumpled the note, and shook her head at the maid, indicating there would be no reply. She sat down at her dressing table again, to think. What should she do? She always practiced openness with her husband, and they had never kept secrets from one another. If she kept this note a secret, it would be the first one, and what a secret! Her first impulse was to show him the note, but a second thought stayed her hand. Mr. Darcy would do only one thing upon seeing it, she was sure: he would inevitably challenge Lord Byron to a duel. She deplored these ways of men, for even if neither was hurt – or killed – in the encounter, there would surely be an open scandal. Their names would be dragged through the vilest Venetian gossip; the British Embassy would be involved.  There was no thinking of it, she must be silent. Such things could not be allowed to happen.

But she wanted more than anything to show her husband the note, and to abide by whatever course he thought best in dealing with the impertinence of that man. She hated it being all her own decision, and hiding something so troubling.  Perhaps he would insist on them leaving Venice at once, and thankful she would be for that. Possibilities whirled, and she could not make up her mind. What should she do?

“Are you coming to bed, my darling Lizzy?” came his voice from the bedroom.

“Yes, yes, at once,” she answered hurriedly, and put the little wadded-up note under a Capodimonte cupid on her dressing-table.

25 comments

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    • Glynis on February 2, 2018 at 12:31 pm
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    Oh poor Lizzy. To be honest I think she should have either shown it to Darcy or burnt it rather than risk his finding it.
    What a scoundrel Byron is, it’s perfectly obvious that Darcy and Elizabeth are in love so he should respect that.

      • Diana Birchall on February 3, 2018 at 12:17 am
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      Agree she should have shown him the note, but I can’t blame her for wanting to buy a little time to think over the ramifications, Glynis. I think Byron respects their love, but in his twisted mind, he wants to be part of it!

    • Meg on February 2, 2018 at 1:19 pm
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    🤭

    • Sophia on February 2, 2018 at 2:25 pm
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    Holy what a secret Elizabeth might have to withhold from dear William! Now what will she do? Tell him the truth or withhold it? What audacity Lord Byron shows to a happily married woman! I think she would have been wise to burn the note… maybe at least. Can’t wait to see where this leads!

      • Diana Birchall on February 3, 2018 at 12:18 am
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      (coyly) Well, Sophia, she still may burn the note…wait and see!

    • Carole in Canada on February 2, 2018 at 4:32 pm
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    I tend to agree with Elizabeth that Byron cannot be happy in his pursuits but a troubled darkened mind. In his selfishness, he has put a severe burden on Elizabeth. If she is wise, she should tell him and suggest that they leave Venice to avoid any talk or scandal. I’m sure Darcy will have a way to let Byron know that he has more than crossed the line without calling him out. Thank you for the pictures and the paintings! I cannot imagine the water be all the great for swimming in though!

      • Diana Birchall on February 3, 2018 at 12:20 am
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      Thanks, Carole, yes, I thought that Jane Austen would think Byron’s mind “darkened.” It’s something she has Fanny Price say about Mary Crawford in Mansfield Park, and my impression is that she rather disapproved of Byron. Glad you liked the pictures, it’s so much fun for me to share them! I wonder if the water was worse in Venice then than even today…after all, they probably used those canals for waste then. It doesn’t bear thinking about! But Byron really did swim in them.

  1. Poor Lizzy! That was quite unfair of Byron to invite her behind Darcy’s back. I have to agree with Darcy that Byron was indeed no gentleman! But I understand Lizzy’s predicament…yet if Darcy discovers the note before she tells him of it, the situation could become quite misunderstood!

    Thank you for the lovely descriptions and the unlovely (or is that too-lovely?) Byron, Diana!

    Warmly,
    Susanne 🙂

      • Diana Birchall on February 4, 2018 at 4:35 pm
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      Thank you, Susanne – I don’t think Byron was too worried about being fair or unfair, all’s fair in love I suppose he thinks!

    • Ann Dawson on February 3, 2018 at 6:50 am
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    Indeed poor Lizzy, what will she do with that note. Better to show it to Darcy and talk about it than risk him finding it hidden under a Capodimonte cupid jug or saucer.Then what would happen between Darcy and Elizabeth either the fireworks would fly or the coldness would set in. All agog to see where the story goes next Diana

      • Diana Birchall on February 4, 2018 at 4:36 pm
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      I know. It really isn’t safe to leave a note like that lying around, though I do think Darcy would always trust Elizabeth! Thanks for commenting, Ann, and let’s see what will happen next…

  2. I felt your own point of view come out in the dialogue on life lived intensely — at least as to travel. In this one you brought in more of the realities of Byron’s life but not why he took the view of the world he has — which he spells out in Childe Harold and brings out most forcefully in that Darkness: A Vision. His Vampire story is also of interest: I think it might be the very first vampire story to identify with the vampire; LeFanu picked up the name for his Uncle Silas.

    The scene of the peasant mistress reminded me of Tolstoy’s War and Peace where the family visit an old uncle who is loving a comfortable life with a peasant mistress. She doesn’t glower. Byron is said to have had many women from the street, but two regular ones (not peasants as I recall).

    If Darcy were a real person of that era, he might think he has to challenge man. Hard to say because often these duels were not wanted, and only driven by the publicity in which the initiating incident occurred. The note gives the story a bite

      • Diana Birchall on February 4, 2018 at 4:40 pm
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      Thank you for your thoughtful comment, Ellen. I admit that I know Byron from his letters, which I’ve read them completely, but I barely know him from his poetry at all. I’d better read Darkness: A Vision, maybe it will help me know him better (though I have read [parts of] Childe Harold and yes, the vampyre. Loved Uncle Silas, which I read for work long ago!). Byron is supposed to have slept with 200 women in Venice…

    • Nancy Mayer on February 3, 2018 at 11:31 am
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    AS I have said before — I think having Byron chase a married woman is defamation of the poet. he did have affairs with married women– for in his society they and actresses and such were the ones with which to dally– but he wasn’t the predator. he didn’t chase married women. They chased him and he , usually, allowed himself to be caught. Once or twice he did turn down an invitation. One was with a woman who had only been married for about a year. Later he commented ruefully on his restraint when the wife was said to have had an affair with another famous man.
    Your dislike of Byron shows but for the most part the story is interesting. I do not like stories about Jane Austen’s characters nor those that disparage Byron unduly but it is a credit to your ability as an author that I mostly enjoyed the piece.

      • Diana Birchall on February 4, 2018 at 4:46 pm
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      Dear Nancy, I really do owe you an apology! I knew as I was writing it that you would revile my version of Byron with all your heart, but I knew at the same time that you’d recognize it for being fiction, and fantasy! I do want to say that I don’t dislike Byron. I absolutely adore his letters, think they are the best in the language, and I like HIM, personally, very much – he was a man who transcended the customs and beliefs of his century, and so very human. I am not an expert on his poetry, and have not honestly read much of it; it’s his letters I love. Perhaps that shows. Thank you so much for commenting and keeping an open mind! After all, I don’t claim it for fact! 🙂

        • Nancy Mayer on February 4, 2018 at 5:50 pm
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        Byron said he had sex with over a thousand women during carnivale. It was an obvious exaggeration. For one thing, there wouldn’t have been time enough to eat or sleep. He was often his own worse enemy. I doubt he even had sex with 200 during carnivale. It wasn’t that long a time frame. I think he behaved recklessly and did over indulge and risked having to take the cure of mercury and calomel for gonorrhea.
        “Darkness” was one of the works influenced by the weather in 1816. That was the year the New Englanders called “the year without a summer’. The effects in England were mixed but on the continent there were ruined crops and food shortages. The weather was often dreary– wet and cool without much sunshine. I have often wondered if Byron was one of those who needs sunshine — a seasonal defect disorder ( sp?) sort of thing. he certainly became creative when in the sun of Italy.
        “The bright sun was extinguish’d, and the stars
        Did wander darkling in eternal space,
        rayless, and pathless, and the icy earth
        Swung blind and blackening in the moonless air— p. 169 Complete Poems Cambridge edition.

        A dystopian view of the end of the world written in July of 1816. His wife had left him and opened him to ridicule in England and the weather was horrible. He had left England towards the end of April so H=July wasn’t that long after. I can imagine he wasn’t at his most optimistic.

          • Diana Birchall on February 4, 2018 at 8:35 pm
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          Nancy, thank you again so much for some really interesting research and imagination suggestions. I will read “Darkness,” and am feeling simply bursting with inspiration already! My story is set about a year after the summer of darkness, but I can well imagine that Byron was very much in a state of emotional turmoil after leaving England and the ensuing dystopian influences. His remarks in the letters about his hatred for English people reflects his current mood. I know in a way fictional mash-ups can be seen as silly, but I’m imagining “Darcy and Elizabeth” as very amiable English people and vehicles through whose eyes we see Byron. Next up, I think, a Carnival masked ball…and I absolutely PROMISE not to depict Byron having sex with hundreds! (I don’t promise there may not be a masked mix-up though…stay tuned!)

  3. Oh Diana, I can think of so many ways this could go. I do get engaged. Venice is a wonderful backdrop.

      • Diana Birchall on February 4, 2018 at 4:42 pm
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      Tell me some of them, Diane, because I am kind of stumped (LOL!) I really am enjoying about writing about beloved Venice and some of my favorite characters, but as to what on earth is going to happen next, I may have painted myself into a corner!

    • joyce gacsaly on February 4, 2018 at 4:55 pm
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    Great installment! A cliffhanger… a crumpled note. Thanks for all the great pictures. They enhance the storytelling.

      • Diana Birchall on February 4, 2018 at 8:22 pm
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      Thank you so much, Joyce! I want to keep the story going if only to utilize as many of my pictures as possible! 🙂

    • joyce gacsaly on February 4, 2018 at 5:01 pm
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    Since you mentioned that Carnival is “fast approaching”. Here is a website I found while researching the Medico Della Peste (The Plague Doctor) mask which appeared in a recent episode of Criminal Minds. http://themascherade.com/contents/en-us/d5_Page_5.html. Still reading about them. Did you bring back any masks?

      • Diana Birchall on February 4, 2018 at 8:27 pm
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      Thanks for the website, Joyce, you are making me even more excited about setting the next episode during Carnival! OF COURSE I brought home masks! On my first trip to Venice with my husband in 1988 we brought home a few. When I went with my son in 2006, we brought home more. And on this trip with my friends – yes, more! So we have quite a few Venetian masks by now, and you know you have a standing invitation to come and see them! 🙂 My son particularly likes the long-nosed plague masks, and has a few of those. My favorite that I brought back this time is a very similar cat mask on the top of the website you shared! I will definitely decorate my next installment with masks, now isn’t that a good idea? 🙂

        • joyce gacsaly on February 4, 2018 at 10:44 pm
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        Fabulous! Will look forward to it with great anticipation.

    • Beatrice on March 22, 2018 at 12:49 am
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    My take on the business with the note is that if Darcy finds it, he will see it is crumpled up, which indicates that Elizabeth had no interest in the invitation. I kind of hope she keeps the note – it will be worth millions to a lucky descendant in a couple hundred years, when the Darcy family needs funds most.

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