“We continued in Pisa even more rigorously to absent ourselves from society.  However, as there were a good many English in Pisa, he could not avoid becoming acquainted with various friends of Shelley, among which number was Mr. Medwin.  They followed him in his rides, dined with him, and felt themselves happy, of course, in the apparent intimacy in which they lived with so renowned a man; but not one of them was admitted to any part of his friendship, which, indeed, he did not easily accord.  He had a great affection for Shelley, and a great esteem for his character and talents; but he was not his friend in the most extensive sense of that word.  Sometimes, when speaking of his friends and of friendship, as also of love, and of every other noble emotion of the soul, his expressions might inspire doubts concerning his sentiments and the goodness of his heart.  The feeling of the moment regulated his speech, and besides, he liked to play the part of singularity,—­and sometimes worse, more especially with those whom he suspected of endeavouring to make discoveries as to his real character; but it was only mean minds and superficial observers that could be deceived in him.  It was necessary to consider his actions to perceive the contradiction they bore to his words:  it was necessary to be witness of certain moments, during which unforeseen and involuntary emotion forced him to give himself entirely up to his feelings; and whoever beheld him then, became aware of the stores of sensibility and goodness of which his noble heart was full.

“Among the many occasions I had of seeing him thus overpowered, I shall mention one relative to his feelings of friendship.  A few days before leaving Pisa, we were one evening seated in the garden of the Palazzo Lanfranchi.  A soft melancholy was spread over his countenance;—­he recalled to mind the events of his life; compared them with his present situation and with that which it might have been if his affection for me had not caused him to remain in Italy, saying things which would have made earth a paradise for me, but that even then a presentiment that I should lose all this happiness tormented me.  At this moment a servant announced Mr. Hobhouse.  The slight shade of melancholy diffused over Lord Byron’s face gave instant place to the liveliest joy; but it was so great, that it almost deprived him of strength.  A fearful paleness came over his cheeks, and his eyes were filled with tears as he embraced his friend.  His emotion was so great that he was forced to sit down.

“Lord Clare’s visit also occasioned him extreme delight.  He had a great affection for Lord Clare, and was very happy during the short visit that he paid him at Leghorn.  The day on which they separated was a melancholy one for Lord Byron.  ’I have a presentiment that I shall never see him more,’ he said, and his eyes filled with tears.  The same melancholy came over him during the first weeks that succeeded to Lord Clare’s departure, whenever his conversation happened to fall upon this friend.”