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 I the malady, moved with Theresa to Ravenna. From there she wrote passionate letters to her lover, and so great was her yearning for him that she fell ill, and lay for a long time almost at the point of death. The count, therefore, as a last resort, was forced to summon her lover to her bedside. The effect of his presence was magical ; almost instantaneously the girl recovered, and the unfortunate count found himself in the unenviable position of escort- ing his wife in public, while she leaned on the arm of her lover ! Theresa's influence over Byron was infinite; she raised him from the mire of his excesses, she humanised him, she inspired his latter years, she turned him into an idealist, and enabled him to atone in a large measure for the past by dying, at any rate, a hero. How much she softened him can be judged from the words which he pencilled in a book left forgetfully by Theresa in a garden at Bologna. " Amor mio," he wrote, " how sweet is this word in your Italian language ! In a book belonging to you I can write of nothing but my love. In this expression ' Amor mio ' is comprised my own existence. I know now that I live, and I fear the future. You will decide my destiny ; my fate is in your hands, you, who are but eighteen years of age, and who but two years ago fretted the seclusion of a convent. Oh, if the heavens had but given you to me then ; or, if I had never seen you married ! Now it is too late. I love you, and you love me — at least, you appear to love me. Doubtless it is I who love the most. I can never cease to love. Think of me sometimes when the sea and Alps divide us ; but this can never happen, not unless you command it." His love for Theresa awakened Byron's conscience. The poet, knowing that in the past the penalty of love both to himself and the object of his love always had been misery, really was anxious to avoid inflicting injury upon Theresa, and it was with great reluctance that he suggested an elopement. To this, however, Theresa would not consent ; she realised that such a move would place her for ever outside the pale even of Italian society, and, as a substitute, she thought of adopting the expedient of Juliet, of clothing, herself in the garments of the grave, and waiting in a vault until death might find her with her lover's kiss still warm upon her lips. Subsequently, Count Guiccioli tried to obtain a divorce — tried, but without success ; public opinion was against him ; he declared that hitherto he had been ignorant of his wife's conduct, whereas it was shown that not only had he connived at it, but that he had employed it as a means of trying to extort money fiom Byron. Ultimately, however, on the insistence of the countess herself, the Pope granted a decree of separation, on condition that Theresa either should remain at her father's house or should return to a convent. She adopted the former and obvious expedient. But. at this time the Gamba 423 LOV« family were forced to go into exile. As champions of the popular party, they had for long been an object of suspicion to the police. In 1821, therefore, they moved to Tuscany, and took up their abode at Pisa. Here Byron joined them, and for ten months Theresa lived with him under the same roof. The poet now, however, was a different man to the Byron of old. Theresa's in- fluence had made itself felt in a marked manner. At Pisa he lived a healthy, normal life ; he rose late, and then either he would ride far into the forest or practise pistol shooting with Shelley. He worked hard, and wrote regularly late into the night. Theresa's love for Byron was not egotisti- cal ; she loved not so much the man, as the possibilities she saw in him, and during these months he became educated up to her idealistic standard. Tendencies grew into convictions, and Byron became im- pregnated with a love of liberty, with a desire to right the wrong, and raise the down-trodden. Lady Blessington has left on record a description of the poet's appearance at this time. One of his eyes, she asserts, " was larger than the other ; his nose was thick, so he was best seen in profile ; his mouth was splendid, and his scornful expres- sion was real, not affected, but a sweet smile often broke through his melancholy. His hair was dark brown, here and there turning grey. His voice was harmonious, clear, and low." In July, 1822, the Gambas received another notice from the police, and Byron, accom- panied by Theresa, set out for Genoa. The end, however, was now at hand. It was in the spring of 1823 that Hobhouse urged Byron to lend his services to the cause of Greek independence (the war of independence had then been raging for two years). That Theresa also urged him is not clear. Italian independence was the desire she had at heart ; the cause of Greece was less dear to her; besides, should her lover decide to sacrifice himself to it, separation would be inevitable. However, to strive to free the isles ot Greece was Byron's decision, and on July 14th he set sail from Italy in the brig Hercules, accompanied by Trelawny, Pictro Gamba, Bruno, and his favourite gondolier. His life in Greece is a subject which deserves a volume to itself. To deal with it in this article would be irrelevant, save for the fact that it and his death reveal, as can nothing else, the man whom Theresa made. He died a hero. And the guns of Misso- longhi fired thirty-seven shots in reverent honour — one for each year of their poet saviour's life — and the Turks replied from Patras with exultant volleys. The Greeks wished to bury him at Athens. in the Temple of Theseus. Westminster Abbey, however, was deemed a more fitting resting place, but this the dean refused to sanction. Lord Byron's remains, therefore, were laid beside those of his mother and his ancestors in the little church at Hucknall.