His first play was 'Marino Faliero,' in writing which Byron departed from English models and made a diligent study of authori ties. It was finished in the summer of 1820 and played unsuccessfully at Drury Lane the next spring. The year 1821 saw the writing of the more effective 'Sardanapalus,> 'The Two Foscari,' the powerful, though not stylis tically adequate 'Cain: a Mystery,' 'Heaven and Earth,' another 'Mystery,' and the in ception of 'Werner,' his best acting play, taken largely from Harriet Lee's (q.v.) story 'Kruitz That Byron had little dramatic genius is generally admitted; the literary power which he could not avoid putting into any composition is not, in the case of these experiments, suffi ciently recognized.
While writing his dramas, Byron had more trouble with Count Guiccioli, who was finally separated from his wife, and he was led by the Gambas to take a deep interest in the Car bonari conspiracies. He had already in his poetry given evidence of liberal political senti ments; now he subscribed for the patriotic cause, headed a section of the conspirators, and, but for his birth and fame, would have got into trouble with the Austrian authorities. The Gambas and the Countess were exiled from Ravenna, and Byron, after some lingering, joined them at Pisa in November 1821. Here he saw much of Shelley, Medwin, Trelawny and other Englishmen, and here some time in 1822 he wrote an ineffective drama, 'The De formed Transformed.' The same year he made with Shelley and Leigh Hunt (q.v.) the unfortunate arrangements which induced the latter to come to Italy and begin the publica tion of the quarterly journal, The Liberal. The details of this affair are too complicated to be entered upon without ample space. Shelley was imprudent, Byron rather brutal, Hunt exas perating. Shelley's death complicated matters still further, and The Liberal expired after four numbers. Its most memorable item was Byron's masterly satire upon Southey, 'A Vision of Judgment,' written in 1821. This Murray had been chary of publishing after the trouble he had had with the orthodox on account of 'Cain' —an episode which had a good deal to do with Byron's willingness to establish a journal the chief expense of which he knew would fall on himself.
Meanwhile (Don Juan) had been taken up once more, in a deeper vein, and the Gambas had been ordered to leave Tuscany. Byron,
whose health and spirits were impaired, fol lowed them to Genoa in the autumn of 1822. Here he wrote his satire 'The Age of Bronze,' upon the political reaction of the time, as well as his poor narrative poem 'The Island) and the later cantos of 'Don Juan.) He was grow ing restless and feared that he was losing his powers; but, fortunately, for his fame at least, a new outlet for his energies was at hand. A Whig and Liberal committee was formed in London to aid the Greek revolutionists and at Trelawny's suggestion Byron was made a mem ber. He proposed to go in person to the Le vant, and by midsummer of 1823 he completed his elaborate preparations for the expedition. Sailing from Genoa, with rising spirits, he reached Cephalonia early in August. Here he remained four months writing excellent letters of advice and sensibly waiting for a clear op portunity for action, not, in all likelihood, for an offer of the Greek crown. At the •end of December 1823 he accepted the invitation of Prince Alexander Mavrocordatos to co-operate in the organization of western Greece and sailed for Missolonghi, where he was cordially welcomed. He appears to have shown great tact in harmonizing opposing factions and con siderable practical genius as an organizer. He had no chance to lead into action the wild troops over whom he was placed as com mander-in-chief, but he did hold out success fully against a mutiny, awing by his courage the Suliotes that broke into his tent while he was ill. He recovered somewhat, but exposure to fatigue and the constant rains told heavily upon him, and he took no care of himself. At last he was prostrated with ape and received only the crudest medical attention. After much delirium he passed into a long slumber, which ended in his death at six o'clock in the evening of 19 April 1824. The news was a shock to the world. His body was sent to England and was buried, not in Westminster Abbey, but at Hucknall Torkard, near Newstead Abbey. The Greeks would have liked, more appropriately, to bury him at Athens, and, fortunately, they did secure his heart for interment at Misso longhi. There is no incongruity, however, in thinking of him as reposing, after his stormy life, in company with his passionate mother and his long line of wild ancestors.