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Life of Lord Byron, Vol. 6

by Thomas Moore · English · Gutenberg #14841 · 776,621 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: Life of Lord Byron, Vol. 6

Author: Thomas Moore


        
Release date: January 30, 2005 [eBook #14841]
                Most recently updated: December 19, 2020

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LIFE OF LORD BYRON, VOL. 6 ***




Produced by Jonathan Ingram, Leonard Johnson and the PG Online
Distributed Proofreading Team.






LIFE
OF
LORD BYRON:

WITH HIS LETTERS AND JOURNALS.

BY THOMAS MOORE, ESQ.

IN SIX VOLUMES.--VOL. VI.

NEW EDITION.

1854.




CONTENTS OF VOL. VI.

LETTERS AND JOURNALS OF LORD BYRON, with NOTICES OF HIS LIFE, from
February, 1823, to his Death in April, 1824

APPENDIX

MISCELLANEOUS PIECES IN PROSE.

REVIEW OF WORDSWORTH'S POEMS. 1807

REVIEW OF GELL'S GEOGRAPHY OF ITHACA, AND ITINERARY OF GREECE. 1811

PARLIAMENTARY SPEECHES. 1812, 1813

FRAGMENT. 1816

LETTER TO JOHN MURRAY, ESQ., ON THE REV. W.L. BOWLES'S STRICTURES ON
THE LIFE AND WRITINGS OF POPE. 1821

OBSERVATIONS UPON "OBSERVATIONS" OF THE REV. W.L. BOWLES ON THE
POETICAL CHARACTER OF POPE; IN A SECOND LETTER TO JOHN MURRAY, ESQ.
1821




NOTICES OF THE LIFE OF LORD BYRON.

       *       *       *       *       *

LETTER 508. TO MR. MOORE.

"Genoa, February 20. 1823.

"My Dear Tom,

"I must again refer you to those two letters addressed to you at
Passy before I read your speech in Galignani, &c., and which you do
not seem to have received.[1]

[Footnote 1: I was never lucky enough to recover these two letters,
though frequent enquiries were made about them at the French
post-office.]

"Of Hunt I see little--once a month or so, and then on his own
business, generally. You may easily suppose that I know too little of
Hampstead and his satellites to have much communion or community with
him. My whole present relation to him arose from Shelley's unexpected
wreck. You would not have had me leave him in the street with his
family, would you? and as to the other plan you mention, you forget
how it would _humiliate_ him--that his writings should be supposed to
be dead weight![1] Think a moment--he is perhaps the vainest man on
earth, at least his own friends say so pretty loudly; and if he were
in other circumstances, I might be tempted to take him down a peg;
but not now,--it would be cruel. It is a cursed business; but neither
the motive nor the means rest upon my conscience, and it happens that
he and his brother _have_ been so far benefited by the publication in
a pecuniary point of view. His brother is a steady, bold fellow, such
as _Prynne_, for example, and full of moral, and, I hear, physical
courage.

[Footnote 1: The passage in one of my letters to which he here refers
shall be given presently.]

"And _you_ are _really_ recanting, or softening to the clergy! It
will do little good for you--it is _you_, not the poem, they are at.
They will say they frightened you--forbid it, Ireland!

"Yours ever,

"N.B."

Lord Byron had now, for some time, as may be collected from his
letters, begun to fancy that his reputation in England was on the
wane. The same thirst after fame, with the same sensitiveness to
every passing change of popular favour, which led Tasso at last to
look upon himself as the most despised of writers[1], had more than
once disposed Lord Byron, in the midst of all his triumphs, if not to
doubt their reality, at least to distrust their continuance; and
sometimes even, with that painful skill which sensibility supplies,
to extract out of the brightest tributes of success some omen of
future failure, or symptom of decline. New successes, however, still
came to dissipate these bodings of diffidence; nor was it till after
his unlucky coalition with Mr. Hunt in the Liberal, that any grounds
for such a suspicion of his having declined in public favour showed
themselves.

[Footnote 1: In one of his letters this poet says:--"Non posso negare
che io mi doglio oltramisura di esser stato tanto disprezzato dal
mondo quanto non e altro scrittore di questo secolo." In another
letter, however, after complaining of being "perseguitato da molti
più che non era convenevole," he adds, with a proud prescience of his
future fame, "Laondé stimo di poter mene ragionevolmente richiamare
alla posterità."]

The chief inducements, on the part of Lord Byron, to this unworthy
alliance were, in the first place, a wish to second the kind views of
his friend Shelley in inviting Mr. Hunt to join him in Italy; and, in
the next, a desire to avail himself of the aid of one so experienced,
as an editor, in the favourite project he had now so long
contemplated, of a periodical work, in which all the various
offspring of his genius might be received fast as they sprung to
light. With such opinions, however, as he had long entertained of Mr.
Hunt's character and talents[1], the facility with which he now
admitted him--_not_ certainly to any degree of confidence or
intimacy, but to a declared fellowship of fame and interest in the
eyes of the world, is, I own, an inconsistency not easily to be
accounted for, and argued, at all events, a strong confidence in the
antidotal power of his own name to resist the ridicule of such an
association.

[Footnote 1: See Letter 317. p. 103.]

As long as Shelley lived, the regard which Lord Byron entertained for
him extended its influence also over his relations with his friend;
the suavity and good-breeding of Shelley interposing a sort of
softening medium in the way of those unpleasant collisions which
afterwards took place, and which, from what is known of both parties,
may be easily conceived to have been alike trying to the patience of
the patron and the vanity of the dependent. That even, however,
during the lifetime of their common friend, there had occurred some
of those humiliating misunderstandings which money
engenders,--humiliating on both sides, as if from the very nature of
the dross that gives rise to them,--will appear from the following
letter of Shelley's which I find among the papers in my hands.


TO LORD BYRON.

"February 15. 1823.

"My dear Lord Byron.

"I enclose you a letter from Hunt, which annoys me on more than one
account. You will observe the postscript, and you know me well enough
to feel how painful a task is set me in commenting upon it. Hunt had
urged me more than once to ask you to lend him this money. My answer
consisted in sending him all I could spare, which I have now
literally done. Your kindness in fitting up a part of your own house
for his accommodation I sensibly felt, and willingly accepted from
you on his part, but, believe me, without the slightest intention of
imposing, or, if I could help it, allowing to be imposed, any heavier
task on your purse. As it has come to this in spite of my exertions,
I will not conceal from you the low ebb of my own money affairs in
the present moment,--that is, my absolute incapacity of assisting
Hunt farther.

"I do not think poor Hunt's promise to pay in a given time is worth
very much; but mine is less subject to uncertainty, and I should be
happy to be responsible for any engagement he may have proposed to
you. I am so much annoyed by this subject that I hardly know what to
write, and much less what to say; and I have need of all your
indulgence in judging both my feelings and expressions.

"I shall see you by and by. Believe me

"Yours most faithfully and sincerely,

"P.B. SHELLEY."


Of the book in which Mr. Hunt has thought it decent to revenge upon
the dead the pain of those obligations he had, in his hour of need,
accepted from the living, I am luckily saved from the distaste of
speaking at any length, by the utter and most deserved oblivion into
which his volume has fallen. Never, indeed, was the right feeling of
the world upon such subjects more creditably displayed than in the
reception given universally to that ungenerous book;--even those the
least disposed to think approvingly of Lord Byron having shrunk back
from such a corroboration of their own opinion as could be afforded
by one who did not blush to derive his authority, as an accuser, from
those facilities of observation which he had enjoyed by having been
sheltered and fed under the very roof of the man whom he maligned.

With respect to the hostile feeling manifested in Mr. Hunt's work
towards myself, the sole revenge I shall take is, to lay before my
readers the passage in one of my letters which provoked it; and which
may claim, at least, the merit of not being a covert attack, as
throughout the whole of my remonstrances to Lord Byron on the subject
of his new literary allies, not a line did I ever write respecting
either Mr. Shelley or Mr. Hunt which I was not fully prepared, from
long knowledge of my correspondent, to find that he had instantly,
and as a matter of course, communicated to them. That this want of
retention was a fault in my noble friend, I am not inclined to deny;
but, being undisguised, it was easily guarded against, and, when
guarded against, harmless. Besides, such is the penalty generally to
be paid for frankness of character; and they who could have flattered
themselves that one so open about his own affairs as Lord Byron would
be much more discreet where the confidences of others were concerned,
would have had their own imprudence, not his, to blame for any injury
that their dependence upon his secrecy had brought on them.

The following is the passage, which Lord Byron, as I take for
granted, showed to Mr. Hunt, and to which one of his letters to
myself (February 20.) refers:--

"I am most anxious to know that you mean to emerge out of the
Liberal. It grieves me to urge any thing so much against Hunt's
interest; but I should not hesitate to use the same language to
himself, were I near him. I would, if I were you, serve him in every
possible way but this--I would give him (if he would accept of it)
the profits of the same works, published separately--but I would
_not_ mix myself up in this way with others. I would _not_ become a
partner in this sort of miscellaneous '_pot au feu_,' where the bad
flavour of one ingredient is sure to taint all the rest. I would be,
if I were _you_, alone, single-handed, and, as such, invincible."

While on the subject of Mr. Hunt, I shall avail myself of the
opportunity it affords me of introducing some portions of a letter
addressed to a friend of that gentleman by Lord Byron, in consequence
of an appeal made to the feelings of the latter on the score of his
professed "friendship" for Mr. Hunt. The avowals he here makes are, I
own, startling, and must be taken with more than the usual allowance,
not only for the particular mood of temper or spirits in which the
letter was written, but for the influence also of such slight casual
piques and resentments as might have been, just then, in their
darkening transit through his mind,--indisposing him, for the moment,
to those among his friends whom, in a sunnier mood, he would have
proclaimed as his most chosen and dearest.


LETTER 509. TO MRS. ----.

"I presume that you, at least, know enough of me to be sure that I
could have no intention to insult Hunt's poverty. On the contrary, I
honour him for it; for I know what it is, having been as much
embarrassed as ever he was, without perceiving aught in it to
diminish an honourable man's self-respect. If you mean to say that,
had he been a wealthy man, I would have joined in this Journal, I
answer in the negative. * * * I engaged in the Journal from good-will
towards him, added to respect for his character, literary and
personal; and no less for his political courage, as well as regret
for his present circumstances: I did this in the hope that he might,
with the same aid from literary friends of literary contributions
(which is requisite for all journals of a mixed nature), render
himself independent.

"I have always treated him, in our personal intercourse, with such
scrupulous delicacy, that I have forborne intruding advice which I
thought might be disagreeable, lest he should impute it to what is
called 'taking advantage of a man's situation.'

"As to friendship, it is a propensity in which my genius is very
limited. I do not know the _male_ human being, except Lord Clare, the
friend of my infancy, for whom I feel any thing that deserves the
name. All my others are men-of-the-world friendships. I did not even
feel it for Shelley, however much I admired and esteemed him, so that
you see not even vanity could bribe me into it, for, of all men,
Shelley thought highest of my talents,--and, perhaps, of my
disposition.

"I will do my duty by my intimates, upon the principle of doing as
you would be done by. I have done so, I trust, in most instances. I
may be pleased with their conversation--rejoice in their success--be
glad to do them service, or to receive their counsel and assistance
in return. But as for friends and friendship, I have (as I already
said) named the only remaining male for whom I feel any thing of the
kind, excepting, perhaps, Thomas Moore. I have had, and may have
still, a thousand friends, as they are called, in _life_, who are
like one's partners in the waltz of this world--not much remembered
when the ball is over, though very pleasant for the time. Habit,
business, and companionship in pleasure or in pain, are links of a
similar kind, and the same faith in politics is another." * * *


LETTER 510. TO LADY ----.

"Genoa, March 28. 1823.

"Mr. Hill is here: I dined with him on Saturday before last; and on
leaving his house at S. P. d'Arena, my carriage broke down. I walked
home, about three miles,--no very great feat of pedestrianism; but
either the coming out of hot rooms into a bleak wind chilled me, or
the walking up-hill to Albaro heated me, or something or other set me
wrong, and next day I had an inflammatory attack in the face, to
which I have been subject this winter for the first time, and I
suffered a good deal of pain, but no peril. My health is now much as
usual. Mr. Hill is, I believe, occupied with his diplomacy. I shall
give him your message when I see him again.

"My name, I see in the papers, has been dragged into the unhappy
Portsmouth business, of which all that I know is very succinct. Mr.
H---- is my solicitor. I found him so when I was ten years old--at my
uncle's death--and he was continued in the management of my legal
business. He asked me, by a civil epistle, as an old acquaintance of
his family, to be present at the marriage of Miss H----. I went very
reluctantly, one misty morning (for I had been up at two balls all
night), to witness the ceremony, which I could not very well refuse
without affronting a man who had never offended me. I saw nothing
particular in the marriage. Of course I could not know the
preliminaries, except from what he said, not having been present at
the wooing, nor after it, for I walked home, and they went into the
country as soon as they had promised and vowed. Out of this simple
fact I hear the Debats de Paris has quoted Miss H. as 'autrefois trés
liée avec le célebre,' &c. &c. I am obliged to him for the celebrity,
but beg leave to decline the liaison, which is quite untrue; my
liaison was with the father, in the unsentimental shape of long
lawyers' bills, through the medium of which I have had to pay him ten
or twelve thousand pounds within these few years. She was not pretty,
and I suspect that the indefatigable Mr. A---- was (like all her
people) more attracted by her title than her charms. I regret very
much that I was present at the prologue to the happy state of
horse-whipping and black jobs, &c. &c.; but I could not foresee that
a man was to turn out mad, who had gone about the world for fifty
years, as competent to vote, and walk at large; nor did he seem to me
more insane than any other person going to be married.

"I have no objection to be acquainted with the Marquis Palavicini, if
he wishes it. Lately I have gone little into society, English or
foreign, for I had seen all that was worth seeing in the former
before I left England, and at the time of life when I was more
disposed to like it; and of the latter I had a sufficiency in the
first few years of my residence in Switzerland, chiefly at Madame de
Staël's, where I went sometimes, till I grew tired of _conversazioni_
and carnivals, with their appendages; and the bore is, that if you go
once, you are expected to be there daily, or rather nightly. I went
the round of the most noted soirées at Venice or elsewhere (where I
remained not any time) to the Benzona, and the Albrizzi, and the
Michelli, &c. &c. and to the Cardinals and the various potentates of
the Legation in Romagna, (that is, Ravenna,) and only receded for the
sake of quiet when I came into Tuscany. Besides, if I go into
society, I generally get, in the long run, into some scrape of some
kind or other, which don't occur in my solitude. However, I am pretty
well settled now, by time and temper, which is so far lucky, as it
prevents restlessness; but, as I said before, as an acquaintance of
yours, I will be ready and willing to know your friends. He may be a
sort of connection for aught I know; for a Palavicini, of _Bologna_,
I believe, married a distant relative of mine half a century ago. I
happen to know the fact, as he and his spouse had an annuity of five
hundred pounds on my uncle's property, which ceased at his demise;
though I recollect hearing they attempted, naturally enough, to make
it survive him. If I can do any thing for you here or elsewhere, pray
order, and be obeyed."


LETTER 511. TO MR. MOORE.

"Genoa, April 2. 1823.

"I have just seen some friends of yours, who paid me a visit
yesterday, which, in honour of them and of you, I returned
to-day;--as I reserve my bear-skin and teeth, and paws and claws, for
our enemies.

"I have also seen Henry F----, Lord H----'s son, whom I had not
looked upon since I left him a pretty, mild boy, without a neckcloth,
in a jacket, and in delicate health, seven long years agone, at the
period of mine eclipse--the third, I believe, as I have generally one
every two or three years. I think that he has the softest and most
amiable expression of countenance I ever saw, and manners
correspondent. If to those he can add hereditary talents, he will
keep the name of F---- in all its freshness for half a century more,
I hope. I speak from a transient glimpse--but I love still to yield
to such impressions; for I have ever found that those I liked longest
and best, I took to at first sight; and I always liked that
boy--perhaps, in part, from some resemblance in the less fortunate
part of our destinies--I mean, to avoid mistakes, his lameness. But
there is this difference, that _he_ appears a halting angel, who has
tripped against a star; whilst I am _Le Diable Boiteux_,--a
soubriquet, which I marvel that, amongst their various _nominis
umbræ_, the Orthodox have not hit upon.

"Your other allies, whom I have found very agreeable personages, are
Milor B---- and _épouse_, travelling with a very handsome companion,
in the shape of a 'French Count' (to use Farquhar's phrase in the
Beaux Stratagem), who has all the air of a _Cupidon déchainé_, and is
one of the few specimens I have seen of our ideal of a Frenchman
_before_ the Revolution--an old friend with a new face, upon whose
like I never thought that we should look again. Miladi seems highly
literary,--to which, and your honour's acquaintance with the family,
I attribute the pleasure of having seen them. She is also very
pretty, even in a morning,--a species of beauty on which the sun of
Italy does not shine so frequently as the chandelier. Certainly,
English-women wear better than their continental neighbours of the
same sex. M---- seems very good-natured, but is much tamed, since I
recollect him in all the glory of gems and snuff-boxes, and uniforms,
and theatricals, and speeches in our house--'I mean, of peers,'--(I
must refer you to Pope--who you don't read and won't appreciate--for
that quotation, which you must allow to be poetical,) and sitting to
Stroeling, the painter, (do you remember our visit, with Leckie, to
the German?) to be depicted as one of the heroes of Agincourt, 'with
his long sword, saddle, bridle, Whack fal de, &c. &c.'

"I have been unwell--caught a cold and inflammation, which menaced a
conflagration, after dining with our ambassador, Monsieur Hill,--not
owing to the dinner, but my carriage broke down in the way home, and
I had to walk some miles, up hill partly, after hot rooms, in a very
bleak, windy evening, and over-hotted, or over-colded myself. I have
not been so robustious as formerly, ever since the last summer, when
I fell ill after a long swim in the Mediterranean, and have never
been quite right up to this present writing. I am thin,--perhaps
thinner than you saw me, when I was nearly transparent, in 1812,--and
am obliged to be moderate of my mouth; which, nevertheless, won't
prevent me (the gods willing) from dining with your friends the day
after to-morrow.

"They give me a very good account of you, and of your nearly
'Emprisoned Angels.' But why did you change your title?--you will
regret this some day. The bigots are not to be conciliated; and, if
they were--are they worth it? I suspect that I am a more orthodox
Christian than you are; and, whenever I see a real Christian, either
in practice or in theory, (for I never yet found the man who could
produce either, when put to the proof,) I am his disciple. But, till
then, I cannot truckle to tithe-mongers,--nor can I imagine what has
made _you_ circumcise your Seraphs.

"I have been far more persecuted than you, as you may judge by my
present decadence,--for I take it that I am as low in popularity and
book-selling as any writer can be. At least, so my friends assure
me--blessings on their benevolence! This they attribute to Hunt; but
they are wrong--it must be, partly at least, owing to myself; be it
so. As to Hunt, I prefer _not_ having turned him to starve in the
streets to any personal honour which might have accrued from such
genuine philanthropy. I really act upon principle in this matter, for
we have nothing much in common; and I cannot describe to you the
despairing sensation of trying to do something for a man who seems
incapable or unwilling to do any thing further for himself,--at
least, to the purpose. It is like pulling a man out of a river who
directly throws himself in again. For the last three or four years
Shelley assisted, and had once actually extricated him. I have since
his demise,--and even before,--done what I could: but it is not in my
power to make this permanent. I want Hunt to return to England, for
which I would furnish him with the means in comfort; and his
situation _there_, on the whole, is bettered, by the payment of a
portion of his debts, &c.; and he would be on the spot to continue
his Journal, or Journals, with his brother, who seems a sensible,
plain, sturdy, and enduring person." * *

The new intimacy of which he here announces the commencement, and
which it was gratifying to me, as the common friend of all, to find
that he had formed, was a source of much pleasure to him during the
stay of his noble acquaintances at Genoa. So long, indeed, had he
persuaded himself that his countrymen abroad all regarded him in no
other light than as an outlaw or a show, that every new instance he
met of friendly reception from them was as much a surprise as
pleasure to him; and it was evident that to his mind the revival of
English associations and habitudes always brought with it a sense of
refreshment, like that of inhaling his native air.

With the view of inducing these friends to prolong their stay at
Genoa, he suggested their taking a pretty villa called "Il Paradiso,"
in the neighbourhood of his own, and accompanied them to look at it.
Upon that occasion it was that, on the lady expressing some
intentions of residing there, he produced the following impromptu,
which--but for the purpose of showing that he was not so "chary of
his fame" as to fear failing in such trifles--I should have thought
hardly worth transcribing.

        "Beneath ----'s eyes
        The reclaim'd Paradise
  Should be free as the former from evil;
        But, if the new Eve
        For an apple should grieve,
  What mortal would not play the devil?"[1]

[Footnote 1: The Genoese wits had already applied this threadbare
jest to himself. Taking it into their heads that this villa (which
was also, I believe, a Casa Saluzzo) had been the one fixed on for
his own residence, they said "Il Diavolo é ancora entrato in
Paradise."]

Another copy of verses addressed by him to the same lady, whose
beauty and talent might well have claimed a warmer tribute from such
a pen, is yet too interesting, as descriptive of the premature
feeling of age now stealing upon him, to be omitted in these pages.

"TO THE COUNTESS OF B----.

1.

  "You have ask'd for a verse:--the request
    In a rhymer 'twere strange to deny,
  But my Hippocrene was but my breast,
    And my feelings (its fountain) are dry.

2.

  "Were I now as I was, I had sung
    What Lawrence has painted so well;
  But the strain would expire on my tongue,
    And the theme is too soft for my shell.

3.

  "I am ashes where once I was fire,
    And the bard in my bosom is dead;
  What I loved I _now_ merely admire,
    And my heart is as grey as my head.

4.

  "My life is not dated by years--
    There are _moments_ which act as a plough,
  And there is not a furrow appears
    But is deep in my soul as my brow.

5.

  "Let the young and the brilliant aspire
    To sing what I gaze on in vain;
  For sorrow has torn from my lyre
    The string which was worthy the strain.

"B."

The following letters written during the stay of this party at Genoa
will be found,--some of them at least,--not a little curious.


LETTER 512. TO THE EARL OF B----.

"April 5. 1823.

"My dear Lord,

"How is your gout? or rather, how are you? I return the Count ----'s
Journal, which is a very extraordinary production[1], and of a most
melancholy truth in all that regards high life in England. I know, or
knew personally, most of the personages and societies which he
describes; and after reading his remarks, have the sensation fresh
upon me as if I had seen them yesterday. I would however plead in
behalf of some few exceptions, which I will mention by and by. The
most singular thing is, _how_ he should have penetrated _not_ the
_fact_, but the _mystery_ of the English ennui, at two-and-twenty. I
was about the same age when I made the same discovery, in almost
precisely the same circles,--(for there is scarcely a person
mentioned whom I did not see nightly or daily, and was acquainted
more or less intimately with most of them,)--but I never could have
described it so well. _Il faut étre Français_, to effect this.

[Footnote 1: In another letter to Lord B---- he says of this
gentleman, "he seems to have all the qualities requisite to have
figured in his brother-in-law's ancestor's Memoirs."]

"But he ought also to have been in the country during the hunting
season, with 'a select party of distinguished guests,' as the papers
term it. He ought to have seen the gentlemen after dinner (on the
hunting days), and the soiree ensuing thereupon,--and the women
looking as if they had hunted, or rather been hunted; and I could
have wished that he had been at a dinner in town, which I recollect
at Lord C----'s--small, but select, and composed of the most amusing
people. The dessert was hardly on the table, when, out of twelve, I
counted _five asleep_; of that five, there were _Tierney_, Lord ----,
and Lord ---- --I forget the other two, but they were either wits or
orators--perhaps poets.

"My residence in the East and in Italy has made me somewhat indulgent
of the siesta;--but then they set regularly about it in warm
countries, and perform it in solitude (or at most in a tête-à-tête
with a proper companion), and retire quietly to their rooms to get
out of the sun's way for an hour or two.

"Altogether, your friend's Journal is a very formidable production.
Alas! our dearly beloved countrymen have only discovered that they
are tired, and not that they are tiresome; and I suspect that the
communication of the latter unpleasant verity will not be better
received than truths usually are. I have read the whole with great
attention and instruction. I am too good a patriot to say
_pleasure_--at least I won't say so, whatever I may think. I showed
it (I hope no breach of confidence) to a young Italian lady of rank,
_très instruite_ also; and who passes, or passed, for being one of
the three most celebrated belles in the district of Italy, where her
family and connections resided in less troublesome times as to
politics, (which is not Genoa, by the way,) and she was delighted
with it, and says that she has derived a better notion of English
society from it than from all Madame de Staël's metaphysical
disputations on the same subject, in her work on the Revolution. I
beg that you will thank the young philosopher, and make my
compliments to Lady B. and her sister.

"Believe me your very obliged and faithful

"N. B.

"P.S. There is a rumour in letters of some disturbance or complot in
the French Pyrenean army--generals suspected or dismissed, and
ministers of war travelling to see what's the matter. 'Marry (as
David says), this hath an angry favour.'

"Tell Count ---- that some of the names are not quite intelligible,
especially of the clubs; he speaks of _Watts_--perhaps he is right,
but in my time _Watiers_ was the Dandy Club, of which (though no
dandy) I was a member, at the time too of its greatest glory, when
Brummell and Mildmay, Alvanley and Pierrepoint, gave the Dandy Balls;
and we (the club, that is,) got up the famous masquerade at
Burlington House and Garden, for Wellington. He does not speak of the
_Alfred_, which was the most _recherché_ and most tiresome of any, as
I know by being a member of that too."


LETTER 513. TO THE EARL OF B----.

"April 6. 1823.

"It _would_ be worse than idle, knowing, as I do, the utter
worthlessness of words on such occasions, in me to attempt to express
what I ought to feel, and do feel for the loss you have sustained[1];
and I must thus dismiss the subject, for I dare not trust myself
further with it _for your_ sake, or for my own. I shall _endeavour_
to see you as soon as it may not appear intrusive. Pray excuse the
levity of my yesterday's scrawl--I little thought under what
circumstances it would find you.

[Footnote 1: The death of Lord B----'s son, which had been long
expected, but of which the account had just then arrived.]

"I have received a very handsome and flattering note from Count ----.
He must excuse my apparent rudeness and real ignorance in replying to
it in English, through the medium of your kind interpretation. I
would not on any account deprive him of a production, of which I
really think more than I have even _said_, though you are good enough
not to be dissatisfied even with that; but whenever it is completed,
it would give me the greatest pleasure to have a _copy_--but _how_ to
keep it secret? literary secrets are like others. By changing the
names, or at least omitting several, and altering the circumstances
indicative of the writer's real station or situation, the author
would render it a most amusing publication. His countrymen have not
been treated, either in a literary or personal point of view, with
such deference in English recent works, as to lay him under any very
great national obligation of forbearance; and really the remarks are
so true and piquante, that I cannot bring myself to wish their
suppression; though, as Dangle says, 'He is _my_ friend,' many of
these personages 'were _my friends_, but much such friends as Dangle
and his allies.

"I return you Dr. Parr's letter--I have met him at Payne Knight's and
elsewhere, and he did me the honour once to be a patron of mine,
although a great friend of the other branch of the House of Atreus,
and the Greek teacher (I believe) of my _moral_ Clytemnestra--I say
_moral_, because it is true, and is so useful to the virtuous, that
it enables them to do any thing without the aid of an Ægisthus.

"I beg my compliments to Lady B., Miss P., and to your _Alfred_. I
think, since his Majesty of the same name, there has not been such a
learned surveyor of our Saxon society.

"Ever yours most truly, N. B."

"April 9. 1823.

"P.S. I salute Miledi, Mademoiselle Mama, and the illustrious
Chevalier Count ----; who, I hope, will continue his history of 'his
own times.' There are some strange coincidences between a part of his
remarks and a certain work of mine, now in MS. in England, (I do not
mean the hermetically sealed Memoirs, but a continuation of certain
Cantos of a certain poem,) especially in _what_ a _man_ may do in
London with impunity while he is 'à la mode;' which I think it well
to state, that he may not suspect me of taking advantage of his
confidence. The observations are very general."


LETTER 514. TO THE EARL OF B----.

"April 14. 1823.

"I am truly sorry that I cannot accompany you in your ride this
morning, owing to a violent pain in my face, arising from a wart to
which I by medical advice applied a caustic. Whether I put too much,
I do not know, but the consequence is, that not only I have been put
to some pain, but the peccant part and its immediate environ are as
black as if the printer's devil had marked me for an author. As I do
not wish to frighten your horses, or their riders, I shall postpone
waiting upon you until six o'clock, when I hope to have subsided into
a more christian-like resemblance to my fellow-creatures. My
infliction has partially extended even to my fingers; for on trying
to get the black from off my upper lip at least, I have only
transfused a portion thereof to my right hand, and neither
lemon-juice nor eau de Cologne, nor any other eau, have been able as
yet to redeem it also from a more inky appearance than is either
proper or pleasant. But 'out, damn'd spot'--you may have perceived
something of the kind yesterday, for on my return, I saw that during
my visit it had increased, was increasing, and ought to be
diminished; and I could not help laughing at the figure I must have
cut before you. At any rate, I shall be with you at six, with the
advantage of twilight.

Ever most truly, &c.

"Eleven o'clock.

"P.S. I wrote the above at three this morning. I regret to say that
the whole of the skin of about an _inch_ square above my upper lip
has come off, so that I cannot even shave or masticate, and I am
equally unfit to appear at your table, and to partake of its
hospitality. Will you therefore pardon me, and not mistake this
rueful excuse for a '_make-believe_,' as you will soon recognise
whenever I have the pleasure of meeting you again, and I will call
the moment I am, in the nursery phrase, 'fit to be seen.' Tell Lady
B. with my compliments, that I am rummaging my papers for a MS.
worthy of her acceptation. I have just seen the younger Count Gamba,
and as I cannot prevail on his infinite modesty to take the field
without me, I must take this piece of diffidence on myself also, and
beg your indulgence for both."


LETTER 515. TO THE COUNT ----.

"April 22. 1823.

"My dear Count ---- (if you will permit me to address you so
familiarly), you should be content with writing in your own language,
like Grammont, and succeeding in London as nobody has succeeded since
the days of Charles the Second and the records of Antonio Hamilton,
without deviating into our barbarous language,--which you understand
and write, however, much better than it deserves.

"My 'approbation,' as you are pleased to term it, was very sincere,
but perhaps not very impartial; for, though I love my country, I do
not love my countrymen--at least, such as they now are. And, besides
the seduction of talent and wit in your work, I fear that to me there
was the attraction of vengeance. I have _seen_ and _felt_ much of
what you have described so well. I have known the persons, and the
re-unions so described,--(many of them, that is to say,) and the
portraits are so like that I cannot but admire the painter no less
than his performance.

"But I am sorry for you; for if you are so well acquainted with life
at your age, what will become of you when the illusion is still more
dissipated? But never mind--_en avant!_--live while you can; and that
you may have the full enjoyment of the many advantages of youth,
talent, and figure, which you possess, is the wish of
an--Englishman,--I suppose, but it is no treason; for my mother was
Scotch, and my name and my family are both Norman; and as for myself,
I am of no country. As for my 'Works,' which you are pleased to
mention, let them go to the Devil, from whence (if you believe many
persons) they came.

"I have the honour to be your obliged," &c. &c.

During this period a circumstance occurred which shows, most
favourably for the better tendencies of his nature, how much allayed
and softened down his once angry feeling, upon the subject of his
matrimonial differences, had now grown. It has been seen that his
daughter Ada,--more especially since his late loss of the only tie of
blood which he could have a hope of attaching to himself,--had become
the fond and constant object of his thoughts; and it was but natural,
in a heart kindly as his was, that, dwelling thus with tenderness
upon the child, he should find himself insensibly subdued into a
gentler tone of feeling towards the mother. A gentleman, whose sister
was known to be the confidential friend of Lady Byron, happening at
this time to be at Genoa, and in the habit of visiting at the house
of the poet's new intimates, Lord Byron took one day an opportunity,
in conversing with Lady ----, to say, that she would render him an
essential kindness if, through the mediation of this gentleman and
his sister, she could procure for him from Lady Byron, what he had
long been most anxious to possess, a copy of her picture. It having
been represented to him, in the course of the same, or a similar
conversation, that Lady Byron was said by her friends to be in a
state of constant alarm lest he should come to England to claim his
daughter, or, in some other way, interfere with her, he professed his
readiness to give every assurance that might have the effect of
calming such apprehensions; and the following letter, in reference to
both these subjects, was soon after sent by him.


LETTER 516. TO THE COUNTESS OF B----.

"May 3. 1823.

"Dear Lady ----,

"My request would be for a copy of the miniature of Lady B. which I
have seen in possession of the late Lady Noel, as I have no picture,
or indeed memorial of any kind of Lady B., as all her letters were in
her own possession before I left England, and we have had no
correspondence since--at least on her part.

My message, with regard to the infant, is simply to this effect--that
in the event of any accident occurring to the mother, and my
remaining the survivor, it would be my wish to have her plans carried
into effect, both with regard to the education of the child, and the
person or persons under whose care Lady B. might be desirous that she
should be placed. It is not my intention to interfere with her in any
way on the subject during her life; and I presume that it would be
some consolation to her to know,(if she is in ill health, as I am
given to understand,) that in _no_ case would any thing be done, as
far as I am concerned, but in strict conformity with Lady B.'s own
wishes and intentions--left in what manner she thought proper.

"Believe me, dear Lady B., your obliged," &c.

This negotiation, of which I know not the results, nor whether,
indeed, it ever ended in any, led naturally and frequently to
conversations on the subject of his marriage,--a topic he was himself
always the first to turn to,--and the account which he then gave, as
well of the circumstances of the separation, as of his own entire
unconsciousness of the immediate causes that provoked it, was, I
find, exactly such as, upon every occasion when the subject presented
itself, he, with an air of sincerity in which it was impossible not
to confide, promulgated. "Of what really led to the separation (said
he, in the course of one of these conversations,) I declare to you
that, even at this moment, I am wholly ignorant; as Lady Byron would
never assign her motives, and has refused to answer my letters. I
have written to her repeatedly, and am still in the habit of doing
so. Some of these letters I have sent, and others I did not, simply
because I despaired of their doing any good. You may, however, see
some of them if you like;--they may serve to throw some light upon my
feelings."

In a day or two after, accordingly, one of these withheld letters was
sent by him, enclosed in the following, to Lady ----.


LETTER 517. TO THE COUNTESS OF ----.

"Albaro, May 6.1828.

My dear Lady ----,

I send you the letter which I had forgotten, and the book[1], which I
ought to have remembered. It contains (the book, I mean,) some
melancholy truths; though I believe that it is too triste a work ever
to have been popular. The first time I ever read it (not the edition
I send you,--for I got it since,) was at the desire of Madame de
Staël, who was supposed by the good-natured world to be the
heroine;--which she was not, however, and was furious at the
supposition. This occurred in Switzerland, in the summer of 1816, and
the last season in which I ever saw that celebrated person.

[Footnote 1: Adolphe, by M. Benjamin Constant.]

"I have a request to make to my friend Alfred (since he has not
disdained the title), viz. that he would condescend to add a _cap_ to
the gentleman in the jacket,--it would complete his costume,--and
smooth his brow, which is somewhat too inveterate a likeness of the
original, God help me!"

"I did well to avoid the water-party,--_why_, is a mystery, which is
not less to be wondered at than all my other mysteries. Tell Milor
that I am deep in his MS., and will do him justice by a diligent
perusal."

"The letter which I enclose I was prevented from sending by my
despair of its doing any good. I was perfectly sincere when I wrote
it, and am so still. But it is difficult for me to withstand the
thousand provocations on that subject, which both friends and foes
have for seven years been throwing in the way of a man whose feelings
were once quick, and whose temper was never patient. But 'returning
were as tedious as go o'er.' I feel this as much as ever Macbeth did;
and it is a dreary sensation, which at least avenges the real or
imaginary wrongs of one of the two unfortunate persons whom it
concerns."

"But I am going to be gloomy;--so 'to bed, to bed.' Good night,--or
rather morning. One of the reasons why I wish to avoid society is,
that I can never sleep after it, and the pleasanter it has been the
less I rest."

"Ever most truly," &c. &c.

I shall now produce the enclosure contained in the above; and there
are few, I should think, of my readers who will not agree with me in
pronouncing, that if the author of the following letter had not
_right_ on his side, he had at least most of those good feelings
which are found in general to accompany it.


LETTER 518. TO LADY BYRON.

(TO THE CARE OF THE HON. MRS. LEIGH, LONDON.)

Pisa, November 17. 1821.

I have to acknowledge the receipt of 'Ada's hair,'which is very soft
and pretty, and nearly as dark already as mine was at twelve years
old, if I may judge from what I recollect of some in Augusta's
possession, taken at that age. But it don't curl,--perhaps from its
being let grow.

"I also thank you for the inscription of the date and name, and I
will tell you why;--I believe that they are the only two or three
words of your handwriting in my possession. For your letters I
returned, and except the two words, or rather the one word,
'Household,' written twice in an old account book, I have no other. I
burnt your last note, for two reasons:--firstly, it was written in a
style not very agreeable; and, secondly, I wished to take your word
without documents, which are the worldly resources of suspicious
people.

I suppose that this note will reach you somewhere about Ada's
birthday--the 10th of December, I believe. She will then be six, so
that in about twelve more I shall have some chance of meeting
her;--perhaps sooner, if I am obliged to go to England by business or
otherwise. Recollect, however, one thing, either in distance or
nearness;--every day which keeps us asunder should, after so long a
period, rather soften our mutual feelings, which must always have one
rallying-point as long as our child exists, which I presume we both
hope will be long after either of her parents.

The time which has elapsed since the separation has been considerably
more than the whole brief period of our union, and the not much
longer one of our prior acquaintance. We both made a bitter mistake;
but now it is over, and irrevocably so. For, at thirty-three on my
part, and a few years less on yours, though it is no very extended
period of life, still it is one when the habits and thought are
generally so formed as to admit of no modification; and as we could
not agree when younger, we should with difficulty do so now.

I say all this, because I own to you, that, notwithstanding every
thing, I considered our re-union as not impossible for more than a
year after the separation;--but then I gave up the hope entirely and
for ever. But this very impossibility of re-union seems to me at
least a reason why, on all the few points of discussion which can
arise between us, we should preserve the courtesies of life, and as
much of its kindness as people who are never to meet may preserve
perhaps more easily than nearer connections. For my own part, I am
violent, but not malignant; for only fresh provocations can awaken my
resentments. To you, who are colder and more concentrated, I would
just hint, that you may sometimes mistake the depth of a cold anger
for dignity, and a worse feeling for duty. I assure you that I bear
you _now_ (whatever I may have done) no resentment whatever.
Remember, that _if you have injured me_ in aught, this forgiveness is
something; and that, if I have _injured you_, it is something more
still, if it be true, as the moralists say, that the most offending
are the least forgiving.

"Whether the offence has been solely on my side, or reciprocal, or on
yours chiefly, I have ceased to reflect upon any but two
things,--viz. that you are the mother of my child, and that we shall
never meet again. I think if you also consider the two corresponding
points with reference to myself, it will be better for all three.

"Yours ever,

"NOEL BYRON."


It has been my plan, as must have been observed, wherever my
materials have furnished me with the means, to leave the subject of
my Memoir to relate his own story; and this object, during the two or
three years of his life just elapsed, I have been enabled by the rich
resources in my hands, with but few interruptions, to attain. Having
now, however, reached that point of his career from which a new start
was about to be taken by his excursive spirit, and a course, glorious
as it was brief and fatal, entered upon,--a moment of pause may be
permitted while we look back through the last few years, and for a
while dwell upon the spectacle, at once grand and painful, which his
life during that most unbridled period of his powers exhibited.

In a state of unceasing excitement, both of heart and brain,--for
ever warring with the world's will, yet living but in the world's
breath,--with a genius taking upon itself all shapes, from Jove down
to Scapin, and a disposition veering with equal facility to all
points of the moral compass,--not even the ancient fancy of the
existence of two souls within one bosom would seem at all adequately
to account for the varieties, both of power and character, which the
course of his conduct and writings during these few feverish years
displayed. Without going back so far as the Fourth Canto of Childe
Harold, which one of his bitterest and ablest assailants has
pronounced to be, "in point of execution, the sublimest poetical
achievement of mortal pen," we have, in a similar strain of strength
and splendour, the Prophecy of Dante, Cain, the Mystery of Heaven and
Earth, Sardanapalus,--all produced during this wonderful period of
his genius. To these also are to be added four other dramatic pieces,
which, though the least successful of his compositions, have yet, as
Poems, few equals in our literature; while, in a more especial
degree, they illustrate the versatility of taste and power so
remarkable in him, as being founded, and to this very circumstance,
perhaps, owing their failure, on a severe classic model, the most
uncongenial to his own habits and temperament, and the most remote
from that bold, unshackled license which it had been the great
mission of his genius, throughout the whole realms of Mind, to
assert.

In contrast to all these high-toned strains, and struck off during
the same fertile period, we find his Don Juan--in itself an epitome
of all the marvellous contrarieties of his character--the Vision of
Judgment, the Translation from Pulci, the Pamphlets on Pope, on the
British Review, on Blackwood,--together with a swarm of other light,
humorous trifles, all flashing forth carelessly from the same mind
that was, almost at the same moment, personating, with a port worthy
of such a presence, the mighty spirit of Dante, or following the dark
footsteps of Scepticism over the ruins of past worlds, with Cain.

All this time, too, while occupied with these ideal creations, the
demands upon his active sympathies, in real life, were such as almost
any mind but his own would have found sufficient to engross its every
thought and feeling. An amour, not of that light, transient kind
which "goes without a burden," but, on the contrary, deep-rooted
enough to endure to the close of his days, employed as restlessly
with its first hopes and fears a portion of this period as with the
entanglements to which it led, political and domestic, it embarrassed
the remainder. Scarcely, indeed, had this disturbing passion begun to
calm, when a new source of excitement presented itself in that
conspiracy into which he flung himself so fearlessly, and which
ended, as we have seen, but in multiplying the objects of his
sympathy and protection, and driving him to a new change of home and
scene.

When we consider all these distractions that beset him, taking into
account also the frequent derangement of his health, and the time and
temper he must have thrown away on the minute drudgery of watching
over every item of his household expenditure, the mind is lost in
almost incredulous astonishment at the wonders he was able to achieve
under such circumstances--at the variety and prodigality of power
with which, in the midst of such interruptions and hinderances, his
"bright soul broke out on every side," and not only held on its
course, unclogged, through all these difficulties, but even extracted
out of the very struggles and annoyances it encountered new nerve for
its strength, and new fuel for its fire.

While thus at this period, more remarkably than at any other during
his life, the unparalleled versatility of his genius was unfolding
itself, those quick, cameleon-like changes of which his character,
too, was capable were, during the same time, most vividly, and in
strongest contrast, drawn out. To the world, and more especially to
England,--the scene at once of his glories and his wrongs,--he
presented himself in no other aspect than that of a stern, haughty
misanthrope, self-banished from the fellowship of men, and, most of
all, from that of Englishmen. The more genial and beautiful
inspirations of his muse were, in this point of view, looked upon but
as lucid intervals between the paroxysms of an inherent malignancy of
nature; and even the laughing effusions of his wit and humour got
credit for no other aim than that which Swift boasted of, as the end
of all his own labours, "to vex the world rather than divert it."

How totally all this differed from the Byron of the social hour, they
who lived in familiar intercourse with him may be safely left to
tell. The sort of ferine reputation which he had acquired for himself
abroad prevented numbers, of course, of his countrymen, whom he would
have most cordially welcomed, from seeking his acquaintance. But, as
it was, no English gentleman ever approached him, with the common
forms of introduction, that did not come away at once surprised and
charmed by the kind courtesy and facility of his manners, the
unpretending play of his conversation, and, on a nearer intercourse,
the frank, youthful spirits, to the flow of which he gave way with
such a zest, as even to deceive some of those who best knew him into
the impression, that gaiety was after all the true bent of his
disposition.

To these contrasts which he presented, as viewed publicly and
privately, is to be added also the fact, that, while braving the
world's ban so boldly, and asserting man's right to think for himself
with a freedom and even daringness unequalled, the original shyness
of his nature never ceased to hang about him; and while at a distance
he was regarded as a sort of autocrat in intellect, revelling in all
the confidence of his own great powers, a somewhat nearer observation
enabled a common acquaintance at Venice[1] to detect, under all this,
traces of that self-distrust and bashfulness which had marked him as
a boy, and which never entirely forsook him through the whole of his
career.

[Footnote 1: The Countess Albrizzi--see her Sketch of his Character.]

Still more singular, however, than this contradiction between the
public and private man,--a contradiction not unfrequent, and, in some
cases, more apparent than real, as depending upon the relative
position of the observer,--were those contrarieties and changes not
less startling, which his character so often exhibited, as compared
with itself. He who, at one moment, was seen intrenched in the most
absolute self-will, would, at the very next, be found all that was
docile and amenable. To-day, storming the world in its strong-holds,
as a misanthrope and satirist--to-morrow, learning, with implicit
obedience, to fold a shawl, as a Cavaliere--the same man who had so
obstinately refused to surrender, either to friendly remonstrance or
public outcry, a single line of Don Juan, at the mere request of a
gentle Donna agreed to cease it altogether; nor would venture to
resume this task (though the chief darling of his muse) till, with
some difficulty, he had obtained leave from the same ascendant
quarter. Who, indeed, is there that, without some previous clue to
his transformations, could have been at all prepared to recognise the
coarse libertine of Venice in that romantic and passionate lover who,
but a few months after, stood weeping before the fountain in the
garden at Bologna? or, who could have expected to find in the close
calculator of sequins and baiocchi, that generous champion of Liberty
whose whole fortune, whose very life itself were considered by him
but as trifling sacrifices for the advancement, but by a day, of her
cause?

And here naturally our attention is drawn to the consideration of
another feature of his character, connected more intimately with the
bright epoch of his life now before us. Notwithstanding his strongly
marked prejudices in favour of rank and high birth, we have seen with
what ardour,--not only in fancy and theory, bet practically, as in
the case of the Italian Carbonari,--he embarked his sympathies
unreservedly on the current of every popular movement towards
freedom. Though of the sincerity of this zeal for liberty the seal
set upon it so solemnly by his death leaves us no room to doubt, a
question may fairly arise whether that general love of excitement,
let it flow from whatever source it might, by which, more or less,
every pursuit of his whole life was actuated, was not predominant
among the impulses that governed him in this; and, again, whether it
is not probable that, like Alfieri and other aristocratic lovers of
freedom, he would not ultimately have shrunk from the result of his
own equalising doctrines; and, though zealous enough in lowering
those _above_ his own level, rather recoil from the task of raising
up those who were _below_ it.

With regard to the first point, it may be conceded, without deducting
much from his sincere zeal in the cause, that the gratification of
his thirst of fame, and, above all, perhaps, that supply of
excitement so necessary to him, to whet, as it were, the edge of his
self-wearing spirit, were not the least of the attractions and
incitements which a struggle under the banners of Freedom presented
to him. It is also but too certain that, destined as he was to
endless disenchantment, from that singular and painful union which
existed in his nature of the creative imagination that calls up
illusions, and the cool, searching sagacity that, at once, detects
their hollowness, he could not long have gone on, even in a path so
welcome to him, without finding the hopes with which his fancy had
strewed it withering away beneath him at every step.

In politics, as in every other pursuit, his ambition was to be among
the first; nor would it have been from the want of a due appreciation
of all that is noblest and most disinterested in patriotism, that he
would ever have stooped his flight to any less worthy aim. The
following passage in one of his Journals will be remembered by the
reader:--"To be the first man _(not_ the Dictator), not the Sylla,
but the Washington, or Aristides, the leader in talent and truth, is
to be next to the Divinity." With such high and pure notions of
political eminence, he could not be otherwise than fastidious as to
the means of attaining it; nor can it be doubted that with the sort
of vulgar and sometimes sullied instruments which all popular leaders
must stoop to employ, his love of truth, his sense of honour, his
impatience of injustice, would have led him constantly into such
collisions as must have ended in repulsion and disgust; while the
companionship of those beneath him, a tax all demagogues must pay,
would, as soon as it had ceased to amuse his fancy for the new and
the ridiculous, have shocked his taste and mortified his pride. The
distaste with which, as appears from more than one of his letters, he
was disposed to view the personal, if not the political, attributes
of what is commonly called the Radical party in England, shows how
unsuited he was naturally to mix in that kind of popular fellowship
which, even to those far less aristocratic in their notions and
feelings, must be sufficiently trying.

But, even granting that all these consequences might safely be
predicted as almost certain to result from his engaging in such a
career, it by no means the more necessarily follows that, _once_
engaged, he would not have persevered in it consistently and
devotedly to the last; nor that, even if reduced to say, with Cicero,
"nil boni præter causam," he could not have so far abstracted the
principle of the cause from its unworthy supporters as, at the same
time, to uphold the one and despise the others. Looking back, indeed,
from the advanced point where we are now arrived through the whole of
his past career, we cannot fail to observe, pervading all its
apparent changes and inconsistencies, an adherence to the original
bias of his nature, a general consistency in the main, however
shifting and contradictory the details, which had the effect of
preserving, from first to last, all his views and principles, upon
the great subjects that interested him through life, essentially
unchanged.[1]

[Footnote 1: Colonel Stanhope, who saw clearly this leading character
of Byron's mind, has thus justly described it:--"Lord Byron's was a
versatile and still a stubborn mind; it wavered, but always returned
to certain fixed principles."]

At the worst, therefore, though allowing that, from disappointment or
disgust, he might have been led to withdraw all personal
participation in such a cause, in no case would he have shown himself
a recreant to its principles; and though too proud to have ever
descended, like Egalité, into the ranks of the people, he would have
been far too consistent to pass, like Alfieri, into those of their
enemies.

After the failure of those hopes with which he had so sanguinely
looked forward to the issue of the late struggle between Italy and
her rulers, it may be well conceived what a relief it was to him to
turn his eyes to Greece, where a spirit was now rising such as he had
himself imaged forth in dreams of song, but hardly could have even
dreamed that he should live to see it realised. His early travels in
that country had left a lasting impression on his mind; and whenever,
as I have before remarked, his fancy for a roving life returned, it
was to the regions about the "blue Olympus" he always fondly looked
back. Since his adoption of Italy as a home, this propensity had in a
great degree subsided. In addition to the sedatory effects of his new
domestic r, there had, at this time, grown upon him a degree of
inertness, or indisposition to change of residence, which, in the
instance of his departure from Ravenna, was with some difficulty
surmounted.

The unsettled state of life he was from thenceforward thrown into, by
the precarious fortunes of those with whom he had connected himself,
conspired with one or two other causes to revive within him all his
former love of change and adventure; nor is it wonderful that to
Greece, as offering _both_ in their most exciting form, he should
turn eagerly his eyes, and at once kindle with a desire not only to
witness, but perhaps share in, the present triumphs of Liberty on
those very fields where he had already gathered for immortality such
memorials of her day long past.

Among the causes that concurred with this sentiment to determine him
to the enterprise he now meditated, not the least powerful,
undoubtedly, was the supposition in his own mind that the high tide
of his poetical popularity had been for some time on the ebb. The
utter failure of the Liberal,--in which, splendid as were some of his
own contributions to it, there were yet others from his pen hardly to
be distinguished from the surrounding dross,--confirmed him fully in
the notion that he had at last wearied out his welcome with the
world; and, as the voice of fame had become almost as necessary to
him as the air he breathed, it was with a proud consciousness of the
yet untouched reserves of power within him he now saw that, if
arrived at the end of _one_ path of fame, there were yet others for
him to strike into, still more glorious.

That some such vent for the resources of his mind had long been
contemplated by him appears from a letter of his to myself, in which
it will be recollected he says,--"If I live ten years longer, you
will see that it is not over with me. I don't mean in literature, for
that is nothing; and--it may seem odd enough to say--I do not think
it was my vocation. But you will see that I shall do something,--the
times and Fortune permitting,--that 'like the cosmogony of the world
will puzzle the philosophers of all ages.'" He then adds this but too
true and sad prognostic:--"But I doubt whether my constitution will
hold out."

His zeal in the cause of Italy, whose past history and literature
seemed to call aloud for redress of her present vassalage and wrongs,
would have, no doubt, led him to the same chivalrous self-devotion in
her service, as he displayed afterwards in that of Greece. The
disappointing issue, however, of that brief struggle is but too well
known; and this sudden wreck of a cause so promising pained him the
more deeply from his knowledge of some of the brave and true hearts
embarked in it. The disgust, indeed, which that abortive effort left
behind, coupled with the opinion he had early formed of the
"hereditary bonds-men" of Greece, had kept him for some time in a
state of considerable doubt and misgiving as to their chances of ever
working out their own enfranchisement; nor was it till the spring of
this year, when, rather by the continuance of the struggle than by
its actual success, some confidence had begun to be inspired in the
trust-worthiness of the cause, that he had nearly made up his mind to
devote himself to its aid. The only difficulty that still remained to
retard or embarrass this resolution was the necessity it imposed of a
temporary separation from Madame Guiccioli, who was herself, as might
be expected, anxious to participate his perils, but whom it was
impossible he could think of exposing to the chances of a life, even
for men, so rude.

At the beginning of the month of April he received a visit from Mr.
Blaquiere, who was then proceeding on a special mission to Greece,
for the purpose of procuring for the Committee lately formed in
London correct information as to the state and prospects of that
country. It was among the instructions of this gentleman that he
should touch at Genoa and communicate with Lord Byron; and the
following note will show how cordially the noble poet was disposed to
enter into all the objects of the Committee.


LETTER 519. TO MR. BLAQUIERE.

"Albaro, April 5. 1823.

"Dear Sir,

"I shall be delighted to see you and your Greek friend, and the
sooner the better. I have been expecting you for some time,--you will
find me at home. I cannot express to you how much I feel interested
in the cause, and nothing but the hopes I entertained of witnessing
the liberation of Italy itself prevented me long ago from returning
to do what little I could, as an individual, in that land which it is
an honour even to have visited.

"Ever yours truly, NOEL BYRON."


Soon after this interview with their agent, a more direct
communication on the subject was opened between his Lordship and the
Committee itself.


LETTER 520. TO MR. BOWRING.

"Genoa, May 12. 1823

"Sir,

"I have great pleasure in acknowledging your letter, and the honour
which the Committee have done me:--I shall endeavour to deserve their
confidence by every means in my power. My first wish is to go up into
the Levant in person, where I might be enabled to advance, if not the
cause, at least the means of obtaining information which the
Committee might be desirous of acting upon; and my former residence
in the country, my familiarity with the Italian language, (which is
there universally spoken, or at least to the same extent as French in
the more polished parts of the Continent,) and my _not_ total
ignorance of the Romaic, would afford me some advantages of
experience. To this project the only objection is of a domestic
nature, and I shall try to get over it;--if I fail in this, I must do
what I can where I am; but it will be always a source of regret to
me, to think that I might perhaps have done more for the cause on the
spot.

"Our last information of Captain Blaquiere is from Ancona, where he
embarked with a fair wind for Corfu, on the 15th ult.; he is now
probably at his destination. My last letter _from_ him personally was
dated Rome; he had been refused a passport through the Neapolitan
territory, and returned to strike up through Romagna for
Ancona:--little time, however, appears to have been lost by the
delay.

"The principal material wanted by the Greeks appears to be, first, a
park of field artillery--light, and fit for mountain-service;
secondly, gunpowder; thirdly, hospital or medical stores. The
readiest mode of transmission is, I hear, by Idra, addressed to Mr.
Negri, the minister. I meant to send up a certain quantity of the two
latter--no great deal--but enough for an individual to show his good
wishes for the Greek success,--but am pausing, because, in case I
should go myself, I can take them with me. I do not want to limit my
own contribution to this merely, but more especially, if I can get to
Greece myself, I should devote whatever resources I can muster of my
own, to advancing the great object. I am in correspondence with
Signor Nicolas Karrellas (well known to Mr. Hobhouse), who is now at
Pisa; but his latest advice merely stated, that the Greeks are at
present employed in organising their _internal_ government, and the
details of its administration: this would seem to indicate
_security_, but the war is however far from being terminated.

"The Turks are an obstinate race, as all former wars have proved
them, and will return to the charge for years to come, even if
beaten, as it is to be hoped they will be. But in no case can the
labours of the Committee be said to be in vain; for in the event even
of the Greeks being subdued, and dispersed, the funds which could be
employed in succouring and gathering together the remnant, so as to
alleviate in part their distresses, and enable them to find or make a
country (as so many emigrants of other nations have been compelled to
do), would 'bless both those who gave and those who took,' as the
bounty both of justice and of mercy.

"With regard to the formation of a brigade, (which Mr. Hobhouse hints
at in his short letter of this day's receipt, enclosing the one to
which I have the honour to reply,) I would presume to suggest--but
merely as an opinion, resulting rather from the melancholy experience
of the brigades embarked in the Columbian service than from any
experiment yet fairly tried in GREECE,--that the attention of the
Committee had better perhaps be directed to the employment of
_officers_ of experience than the enrolment of _raw British_
soldiers, which latter are apt to be unruly, and not very
serviceable, in irregular warfare, by the side of foreigners. A small
body of good officers, especially artillery; an engineer, with
quantity (such as the Committee might deem requisite) of stores of
the nature which Captain Blaquiere indicated as most wanted, would, I
should conceive, be a highly useful accession. Officers, also, who
had previously served in the Mediterranean would be preferable, as
some knowledge of Italian is nearly indispensable.

"It would also be as well that they should be aware, that they are
not going 'to rough it on a beef-steak and bottle of port,'--but that
Greece--never, of late years, very plentifully stocked for a
_mess_--is at present the country of all kinds of _privations_. This
remark may seem superfluous; but I have been led to it, by observing
that many _foreign_ officers, Italian, French, and even Germans
(but_fewer_ of the _latter_), have returned in disgust, imagining
either that they were going up to make a party of pleasure, or to
enjoy full pay, speedy promotion, and a very moderate degree of duty.
They complain, too, of having been ill received by the Government or
inhabitants; but numbers of these complainants were mere adventurers,
attracted by a hope of command and plunder, and disappointed of both.
Those Greeks I have seen strenuously deny the charge of
inhospitality, and declare that they shared their pittance to the
last crum with their foreign volunteers.

"I need not suggest to the Committee the very great advantage which
must accrue to Great Britain from the success of the Greeks, and
their probable commercial relations with England in consequence;
because I feel persuaded that the first object of the Committee is
their EMANCIPATION, without any interested views. But the
consideration might weigh with the English people in general, in
their present passion for every kind of speculation,--they need not
cross the American seas, for one much better worth their while, and
nearer home. The resources even for an emigrant population, in the
Greek islands alone, are rarely to be paralleled; and the cheapness
of every kind of, not _only necessary_, but _luxury_, (that is to
say, _luxury_ of _nature_,) fruits, wine, oil, &c. in a state of
peace, are far beyond those of the Cape, and Van Dieman's Land, and
the other places of refuge, which the English people are searching
for over the waters.

"I beg that the Committee will command me in any and every way. If I
am favoured with any instructions, I shall endeavour to obey them to
the letter, whether conformable to my own private opinion or not. I
beg leave to add, personally, my respect for the gentleman whom I
have the honour of addressing,

"And am, Sir, your obliged, &c.

"P.S. The best refutation of Gell will be the active exertions of the
Committee;--I am too warm a controversialist; and I suspect that if
Mr. Hobhouse have taken him in hand, there will be little occasion
for me to 'encumber him with help.' If I go up into the country, I
will endeavour to transmit as accurate and impartial an account as
circumstances will permit.

"I shall write to Mr. Karrellas. I expect intelligence from Captain
Blaquiere, who has promised me some early intimation from the seat of
the Provisional Government. I gave him a letter of introduction to
Lord Sydney Osborne, at Corfu; but as Lord S. is in the government
service, of course his reception could only be a _cautious_ one."


LETTER 521. TO MR. BOWRING.

"Genoa, May 21. 1823.

"Sir,

"I received yesterday the letter of the Committee, dated the 14th of
March. What has occasioned the delay, I know not. It was forwarded by
Mr. Galignani, from Paris, who stated that he had only had it in his
charge four days, and that it was delivered to him by a Mr. Grattan.
I need hardly say that I gladly accede to the proposition of the
Committee, and hold myself highly honoured by being deemed worthy to
be a member. I have also to return my thanks, particularly to
yourself, for the accompanying letter, which is extremely flattering.

"Since I last wrote to you, through the medium of Mr. Hobhouse, I
have received and forwarded a letter from Captain Blaquiere to me,
from Corfu, which will show how he gets on. Yesterday I fell in with
two young Germans, survivors of General Normann's band. They arrived
at Genoa in the most deplorable state--without food--without a
soul--without shoes. The Austrians had sent them out of their
territory on their landing at Trieste; and they had been forced to
come down to Florence, and had travelled from Leghorn here, with four
Tuscan _livres_ (about three francs) in their pockets. I have given
them twenty Genoese scudi (about a hundred and thirty-three livres,
French money,) and new shoes, which will enable them to get to
Switzerland, where they say that they have friends. All that they
could raise in Genoa, besides, was thirty _sous_. They do not
complain of the Greeks, but say that they have suffered more since
their landing in Italy.

"I tried their veracity, 1st, by their passports and papers; 2dly, by
topography, cross-questioning them about Arta, Argos, Athens,
Missolonghi, Corinth, c.; and, 3dly, in _Romaic_, of which I found
one of them, at least, knew more than I do. One of them (they are
both of good families) is a fine handsome young fellow of
three-and-twenty--a Wirtembergher, and has a look of _Sandt_ about
him--the other a Bavarian, older and flat-faced, and less ideal, but
a great, sturdy, soldier-like personage. The Wirtembergher was in the
action at Arta, where the Philhellenists were cut to pieces after
killing six hundred Turks, they themselves being only a hundred and
fifty in number, opposed to about six or seven thousand; only eight
escaped, and of them about three only survived; so that General
Normann 'posted his ragamuffins where they were well peppered--not
three of the hundred and fifty left alive--and they are for the
town's end for life.'

"These two left Greece by the direction of the Greeks. When Churschid
Pacha over-run the Morea, the Greeks seem to have behaved well, in
wishing to save their allies, when they thought that the game was up
with themselves. This was in September last (1822): they wandered
from island to island, and got from Milo to Smyrna, where the French
consul gave them a passport, and a charitable captain a passage to
Ancona, whence they got to Trieste, and were turned back by the
Austrians. They complain only of the minister (who has always been an
indifferent character); say that the Greeks fight very well in their
own way, but were at _first_ afraid to _fire_ their own cannon--but
mended with practice.

"Adolphe (the younger) commanded at Navarino for a short time; the
other, a more material person, 'the bold Bavarian in a luckless
hour,' seems chiefly to lament a fast of three days at Argos, and the
loss of twenty-five paras a day of pay in arrear, and some baggage at
Tripolitza; but takes his wounds, and marches, and battles in very
good part. Both are very simple, full of naïveté, and quite
unpretending: they say the foreigners quarrelled among themselves,
particularly the French with the Germans, which produced duels.

"The Greeks accept muskets, but throw away _bayonets_, and will _not_
be disciplined. When these lads saw two Piedmontese regiments
yesterday, they said, 'Ah! if we had but _these_ two, we should have
cleared the Morea:' in that case the Piedmontese must have behaved
better than they did against the Austrians. They seem to lay great
stress upon a few regular troops--say that the Greeks have arms and
powder in plenty, but want victuals, hospital stores, and lint and
linen, &c. and money, very much. Altogether, it would be difficult to
show more practical philosophy than this remnant of our 'puir hill
folk' have done; they do not seem the least cast down, and their way
of presenting themselves was as simple and natural as could be. They
said, a Dane here had told them that an Englishman, friendly to the
Greek cause, was here, and that, as they were reduced to beg their
way home, they thought they might as well begin with me. I write in
haste to snatch the post.

"Believe me, and truly,

"Your obliged, &c.

"P.S. I have, since I wrote this, seen them again. Count P. Gamba
asked them to breakfast. One of them means to publish his Journal of
the campaign. The Bavarian wonders a little that the Greeks are not
quite the same with them of the time of Themistocles, (they were not
then very tractable, by the by,) and at the difficulty of
disciplining them; but he is a 'bon homme' and a tactician, and a
little like Dugald Dalgetty, who would insist upon the erection of 'a
sconce on the hill of Drumsnab,' or whatever it was;--the other seems
to wonder at nothing."


LETTER 522. TO LADY ----.

"May 17. 1823.

"My voyage to Greece will depend upon the Greek Committee (in
England) partly, and partly on the instructions which some persons
now in Greece on a private mission may be pleased to send me. I am a
member, lately elected, of the said Committee; and my object in going
up would be to do any little good in my power;--but as there are some
_pros_ and _cons_ on the subject, with regard to how far the
intervention of strangers may be advisable, I know no more than I
tell you; but we shall probably hear something soon from England and
Greece, which may be more decisive.

"With regard to the late person (Lord Londonderry), whom you hear
that I have attacked, I can only say that a bad minister's memory is
as much an object of investigation as his conduct while alive,--for
his measures do not die with him like a private individual's notions.
He is a matter of _history_; and, wherever I find a tyrant or a
villain, _I will mark him._ I attacked him no more than I had been
wont to do. As to the Liberal,--it was a publication set up for the
advantage of a persecuted author and a very worthy man. But it was
foolish in me to engage in it; and so it has turned out--for I have
hurt myself without doing much good to those for whose benefit it was
intended.

"Do _not defend_ me--it will never do--you will only make _yourself_
enemies.

"Mine are neither to be diminished nor softened, but they may be
overthrown; and there are events which may occur, less improbable
than those which have happened in our time, that may reverse the
present state of things--_nous verrons_.

"I send you this gossip that you may laugh at it, which is all it is
good for, if it is even good for so much. I shall be delighted to see
you again; but it will be melancholy, should it be only for a moment.

"Ever yours, N. B."


It being now decided that Lord Byron should proceed forthwith to
Greece, all the necessary preparations for his departure were
hastened. One of his first steps was to write to Mr. Trelawney, who
was then at Rome, to request that he would accompany him. "You must
have heard," he says, "that I am going to Greece--why do you not come
to me? I can do nothing without you, and am exceedingly anxious to
see you. Pray, come, for I am at last determined to go to Greece:--it
is the only place I was ever contented in. I am serious; and did not
write before, as I might have given you a journey for nothing. They
all say I can be of use to Greece; I do not know how--nor do they;
but, at all events, let us go."

A physician, acquainted with surgery, being considered a necessary
part of his suite, he requested of his own medical attendant at
Genoa, Dr. Alexander, to provide him with such a person; and, on the
recommendation of this gentleman, Dr. Bruno, a young man who had just
left the university with considerable reputation, was engaged. Among
other preparations for his expedition, he ordered three splendid
helmets to be made,--with his never forgotten crest engraved upon
them,--for himself and the two friends who were to accompany him. In
this little circumstance, which in England (where the ridiculous is
so much better understood than the heroic) excited some sneers at the
time, we have one of the many instances that occur amusingly through
his life, to confirm the quaint but, as applied to him, true
observation, that "the child is father to the man;"--the
characteristics of these two periods of life being in him so
anomalously transposed, that while the passions and ripened views of
the man developed themselves in his boyhood, so the easily pleased
fancies and vanities of the boy were for ever breaking out among the
most serious moments of his manhood. The same schoolboy whom we
found, at the beginning of the first volume, boasting of his
intention to raise, at some future time, a troop of horse in black
armour, to be called Byron's Blacks, was now seen trying on with
delight his fine crested helmet, and anticipating the deeds of glory
he was to achieve under its plumes.

At the end of May a letter arrived from Mr. Blaquiere communicating
to him very favourable intelligence, and requesting that he would as
much as possible hasten his departure, as he was now anxiously looked
for, and would be of the greatest service. However encouraging this
summons, and though Lord Byron, thus called upon from all sides, had
now determined to give freely the aid which all deemed so essential,
it is plain from his letters that, in the cool, sagacious view which
he himself took of the whole subject, so far from agreeing with these
enthusiasts in their high estimate of his personal services, he had
not yet even been able to perceive any definite way in which those
services could, with any prospect of permanent utility, be applied.

For an insight into the true state of his mind at this crisis, the
following observations of one who watched him with eyes quickened by
anxiety will be found, perhaps, to afford the clearest and most
certain clue. "At this time," says the Contessa Guiccioli, "Lord
Byron again turned his thoughts to Greece; and, excited on every side
by a thousand combining circumstances, found himself, almost before
he had time to form a decision, or well know what he was doing,
obliged to set out for that country. But, notwithstanding his
affection for those regions,--notwithstanding the consciousness of
his own moral energies, which made him say always that 'a man ought
to do something more for society than write verses,'--notwithstanding
the attraction which the object of this voyage must necessarily have
for his noble mind, and that, moreover, he was resolved to return to
Italy within a few months,--notwithstanding all this, every person
who was near him at the time can bear witness to the struggle which
his mind underwent (however much he endeavoured to hide it), as the
period fixed for his departure approached."[1]

[Footnote 1: "Fu allora che Lord Byron rivolse i suoi pensieri alla
Grecia; e stimolato poi da ogni parte per mille combinazioni egli si
trovo quasi senza averlo deciso, e senza saperlo, obbligato di
partire per la Grecia. Ma, non ostante il suo affetto per quelle
contrade,--non ostante il sentimento delle sue forze morali che gli
faceva dire sempre 'che un uomo e obbligato a fare per la societa
qualche cosa di piu che dei versi,--non ostante le attrative che
doveva avere pel nobile suo animo l'oggetto di que viaggio,--e non
ostante che egli fosse determinato di ritornare in Italia fra non
molti mesi,--pure in quale combattimento si trovasse il suo cuore
mentre si avvanzava l'epoca della sua parenza (sebbene cercasse
occultarlo) ognuno che lo ha avvicinato allora puù dirlo."]

In addition to the vagueness which this want of any defined object so
unsatisfactorily threw round the enterprise before him, he had also a
sort of ominous presentiment--natural, perhaps, to one of his
temperament under such circumstances--that he was but fulfilling his
own doom in this expedition, and should die in Greece. On the evening
before the departure of his friends, Lord and Lady B----, from Genoa,
he called upon them for the purpose of taking leave, and sat
conversing for some time. He was evidently in low spirits, and after
expressing his regret that they should leave Genoa before his own
time of sailing, proceeded to speak of his intended voyage in a tone
full of despondence. "Here," said he, "we are all now together--but
when, and where, shall we meet again? I have a sort of boding that we
see each other for the last time; as something tells me I shall never
again return from Greece." Having continued a little longer in this
melancholy strain, he leaned his head upon the arm of the sofa on
which they were seated, and, bursting into tears, wept for some
minutes with uncontrollable feeling. Though he had been talking only
with Lady B----, all who were present in the room observed, and were
affected by his emotion, while he himself, apparently ashamed of his
weakness, endeavoured to turn off attention from it by some ironical
remark, spoken with a sort of hysterical laugh, upon the effects of
"nervousness."

He had, previous to this conversation, presented to each of the party
some little farewell gift--a book to one, a print from his bust by
Bartolini to another, and to Lady B---- a copy of his Armenian
Grammar, which had some manuscript remarks of his own on the leaves.
In now parting with her, having begged, as a memorial, some trifle
which she had worn, the lady gave him one of her rings; in return for
which he took a pin from his breast, containing a small cameo of
Napoleon, which he said had long been his companion, and presented it
to her Ladyship.

The next day Lady B---- received from him the following note.


TO THE COUNTESS OF B----.

"Albaro, June 2. 1823.

"My dear Lady B----, 'I am _superstitious_, and have recollected that
memorials with a _point_ are of less fortunate augury; I will,
therefore, request you to accept, instead of the _pin_, the enclosed
chain, which is of so slight a value that you need not hesitate. As
you wished for something _worn_, I can only say, that it has been
worn oftener and longer than the other. It is of Venetian
manufacture; and the only peculiarity about it is, that it could only
be obtained at or from Venice. At Genoa they have none of the same
kind. I also enclose a ring, which I would wish _Alfred_ to keep; it
is too large to _wear_; but is formed of _lava_, and so far adapted
to the fire of his years and character. You will perhaps have the
goodness to acknowledge the receipt of this note, and send back the
pin (for good luck's sake), which I shall value much more for having
been a night in your custody.

"Ever and faithfully your obliged, &c.

"P.S. I hope your _nerves_ are well to-day, and will continue to
flourish."


In the mean time the preparations for his romantic expedition were in
progress. With the aid of his banker and very sincere friend, Mr.
Barry, of Genoa, he was enabled to raise the large sums of money
necessary for his supply;--10,000 crowns in specie, and 40,000 crowns
in bills of exchange, being the amount of what he took with him, and
a portion of this having been raised upon his furniture and books, on
which Mr. Barry, as I understand, advanced a sum far beyond their
worth. An English brig, the Hercules, had been freighted to convey
himself and his suite, which consisted, at this time, of Count Gamba,
Mr. Trelawney, Dr. Bruno, and eight domestics. There were also aboard
five horses, sufficient arms and ammunition for the use of his own
party, two one-pounders belonging to his schooner, the Bolivar, which
he had left at Genoa, and medicine enough for the supply of a
thousand men for a year.

The following letter to the Secretary of the Greek Committee
announces his approaching departure.


LETTER 523. TO MR. BOWRING.

"July 7. 1823.

"We sail on the 12th for Greece.--I have had a letter from Mr,
Blaquiere, too long for present transcription, but very satisfactory.
The Greek Government expects me without delay.

"In conformity to the desires of Mr. B. and other correspondents in
Greece, I have to suggest, with all deference to the Committee, that
a remittance of even '_ten thousand pounds only_' (Mr. B.'s
expression) would be of the greatest service to the Greek Government
at present. I have also to recommend strongly the attempt of a loan,
for which there will be offered a sufficient security by deputies now
on their way to England. In the mean time, I hope that the Committee
will be enabled to do something effectual.

"For my own part, I mean to carry up, in cash or credits, above
eight, and nearly nine thousand pounds sterling, which I am enabled
to do by funds I have in Italy, and credits in England. Of this sum I
must necessarily reserve a portion for the subsistence of myself and
suite; the rest I am willing to apply in the manner which seems most
likely to be useful to the cause--having of course some guarantee or
assurance, that it will not be misapplied to any individual
speculation.

"If I remain in Greece, which will mainly depend upon the presumed
probable utility of my presence there, and of the opinion of the
Greeks themselves as to its propriety--in short, if I am welcome to
them, I shall continue, during my residence at least, to apply such
portions of my income, present and future, as may forward the
object--that is to say, what I can spare for that purpose. Privations
I can, or at least could once bear--abstinence I am accustomed
to--and as to fatigue, I was once a tolerable traveller. What I may
be now, I cannot tell--but I will try.

"I await the commands of the Committee--Address to Genoa--the letters
will be forwarded me, wherever I may be, by my bankers, Messrs. Webb
and Barry. It would have given me pleasure to have had some more
_defined_ instructions before I went, but these, of course, rest at
the option of the Committee.

I have the honour to be,

"Yours obediently, &c.

"P.S. Great anxiety is expressed for a printing press and types, &c.
I have not the time to provide them, but recommend this to the notice
of the Committee. I presume the types must, partly at least, be
_Greek_: they wish to publish papers, and perhaps a Journal, probably
in Romaic, with Italian translations."


All was now ready; and on the 13th of July himself and his whole
party slept on board the Hercules. About sunrise the next morning
they succeeded in clearing the port; but there was little wind, and
they remained in sight of Genoa the whole day. The night was a bright
moonlight, but the wind had become stormy and adverse, and they were,
for a short time, in serious danger. Lord Byron, who remained on deck
during the storm, was employed anxiously, with the aid of such of his
suite as were not disabled by sea-sickness from helping him in
preventing further mischief to the horses, which, having been badly
secured, had broken loose and injured each other. After making head
against the wind for three or four hours, the captain was at last
obliged to steer back to Genoa, and re-entered the port at six in the
morning. On landing again, after this unpromising commencement of his
voyage, Lord Byron (says Count Gamba) "appeared thoughtful, and
remarked that he considered a bad beginning a favourable omen."

It has been already, I believe, mentioned that, among the
superstitions in which he chose to indulge, the supposed unluckiness
of Friday, as a day for the commencement of any work, was one by
which he, almost always, allowed himself to be influenced. Soon after
his arrival at Pisa, a lady of his acquaintance happening to meet him
on the road from her house as she was herself returning thither, and
supposing that he had been to make her a visit, requested that he
would go back with her. "I have not been to your house," he answered;
"for, just before I got to the door, I remembered that it was Friday;
and, not liking to make my first visit on a Friday, I turned back."
It is even related of him that he once sent away a Genoese tailor who
brought him home a new coat on the same ominous day.

With all this, strange to say, he set sail for Greece on a
Friday:--and though, by those who have any leaning to this
superstitious fancy, the result maybe thought but too sadly
confirmatory of the omen, it is plain that either the influence of
the superstition over his own mind was slight, or, in the excitement
of self-devotion under which he now acted, was forgotten, In truth,
notwithstanding his encouraging speech to Count Gamba, the
forewarning he now felt of his approaching doom seems to have been
far too deep and serious to need the aid of any such accessory.
Having expressed a wish, on relanding, to visit his own palace, which
he had left to the care of Mr. Barry during his absence, and from
which Madame Guiccioli had early that morning departed, he now
proceeded thither, accompanied by Count Gamba alone. "His
conversation," says this gentleman, "was somewhat melancholy on our
way to Albaro: he spoke much of his past life, and of the uncertainty
of the future. 'Where,' said he, 'shall we be in a year?'--It looked
(adds his friend) like a melancholy foreboding; for, on the same day,
of the same month, in the next year, he was carried to the tomb of
his ancestors."

It took nearly the whole of the day to repair the damages of their
vessel; and the greater part of this interval was passed by Lord
Byron, in company with Mr. Barry, at some gardens near the city. Here
his conversation, as this gentleman informs me, took the same gloomy
turn. That he had not fixed to go to England, in preference, seemed
one of his deep regrets; and so hopeless were the views he expressed
of the whole enterprise before him, that, as it appeared to Mr.
Barry, nothing but a devoted sense of duty and honour could have
determined him to persist in it.

In the evening of that day they set sail;--and now, fairly launched
in the cause, and disengaged, as it were, from his former state of
existence, the natural power of his spirit to shake off pressure,
whether from within or without, began instantly to display itself.
According to the report of one of his fellow-voyagers, though so
clouded while on shore, no sooner did he find himself, once more,
bounding over the waters, than all the light and life of his better
nature shone forth. In the breeze that now bore him towards his
beloved Greece, the voice of his youth seemed again to speak. Before
the titles of hero, of benefactor, to which he now aspired, that of
poet, however pre-eminent, faded into nothing. His love of freedom,
his generosity, his thirst for the new and adventurous,--all were
re-awakened; and even the bodings that still lingered at the bottom
of his heart but made the course before him more precious from his
consciousness of its brevity, and from the high and self-ennobling
resolution he had now taken to turn what yet remained of it
gloriously to account.

  "Parte, e porta un desio d'eterna ed alma
  Gloria che a nobil cuor e sferza e sprone;
  A magnanime imprese intenta ha l'alma,
  Ed _insolite cose oprar_ dispone.
  Gir fra i nemici--_ivi o cipresso o palma_
  Acquistar."

After a passage of five days, they reached Leghorn, at which place it
was thought necessary to touch, for the purpose of taking on board a
supply of gunpowder, and other English goods, not to be had
elsewhere.

It would have been the wish of Lord Byron, in the new path he had now
marked out for himself, to disconnect from his name, if possible, all
those poetical associations, which, by throwing a character of
romance over the step he was now taking, might have a tendency, as he
feared, to impair its practical utility; and it is, perhaps, hardly
saying too much for his sincere zeal in the cause to assert, that he
would willingly at this moment have sacrificed his whole fame, as
poet, for even the prospect of an equivalent renown, as
philanthropist and liberator. How vain, however, was the thought that
he could thus supersede his own glory, or cause the fame of the lyre
to be forgotten in that of the sword, was made manifest to him by a
mark of homage which reached him, while at Leghorn, from the hands of
one of the only two men of the age who could contend with him in the
universality of his literary fame.

Already, as has been seen, an exchange of courtesies, founded upon
mutual admiration, had taken place between Lord Byron and the great
poet of Germany, Goethe. Of this intercourse between two such
men,--the former as brief a light in the world's eyes, as the latter
has been long and steadily luminous,--an account has been by the
venerable survivor put on record, which, as a fit preliminary to the
letter I am about to give, I shall here insert in as faithful a
translation as it has been in my power to procure.



"GOETHE AND BYRON.

"The German poet, who, down to the latest period of his long life,
had been always anxious to acknowledge the merits of his literary
predecessors and contemporaries, because he has always considered
this to be the surest means of cultivating his own powers, could not
but have his attention attracted to the great talent of the noble
Lord almost from his earliest appearance, and uninterruptedly watched
the progress of his mind throughout the great works which he
unceasingly produced. It was immediately perceived by him that the
public appreciation of his poetical merits kept pace with the rapid
succession of his writings. The joyful sympathy of others would have
been perfect, had not the poet, by a life marked by
self-dissatisfaction, and the indulgence of strong passions,
disturbed the enjoyment which his infinite genius produced. But his
German admirer was not led astray by this, or prevented from
following with close attention both his works and his life in all
their eccentricity. These astonished him the more, as he found in the
experience of past ages no element for the calculation of so
eccentric an orbit.

"These endeavours of the German did not remain unknown to the
Englishman, of which his poems contain unambiguous proofs; and he
also availed himself of the means afforded by various travellers, to
forward some friendly salutation to his unknown admirer. At length a
manuscript Dedication of _Sardanapaius_, in the most complimentary
terms, was forwarded to him, with an obliging enquiry whether it
might be prefixed to the tragedy. The German, who, at his advanced
age, was conscious of his own powers and of their effects, could only
gratefully and modestly consider this Dedication as the expression of
an inexhaustible intellect, deeply feeling and creating its own
object. He was by no means dissatisfied when, after a long delay,
Sardanapaius appeared without the Dedication; and was made happy by
the possession of a fac-simile of it, engraved on stone, which he
considered a precious memorial.

The noble Lord, however, did not abandon his purpose of proclaiming
to the world his valued kindness towards his German contemporary and
brother poet, a precious evidence of which was placed in front of the
tragedy of Werner. It will be readily believed, when so unhoped for
an honour was conferred upon the German poet,--one seldom experienced
in life, and that too from one himself so highly distinguished,--he
was by no means reluctant to express the high esteem and sympathising
sentiment with which his unsurpassed contemporary had inspired him.
The task was difficult, and was found the more so, the more it was
contemplated;--for what can be said of one whose unfathomable
qualities are not to be reached by words? But when a young gentleman,
Mr. Sterling, of pleasing person and excellent character, in the
spring of 1823, on a journey from Genoa to Weimar, delivered a few
lines under the hand of the great man as an introduction, and when
the report was soon after spread that the noble Peer was about to
direct his great mind and various power to deeds of sublime daring
beyond the ocean, there appeared to be no time left for further
delay, and the following lines were hastily written[1]:--

[Footnote 1: I insert the verses in the original language, as an
English version gives but a very imperfect notion of their meaning.]

  "Ein freundlich Wort kommt eines nach dem andern
  Von Süden her und bringt uns frohe Stunden;
  Es ruft uns auf zum Edelsten zu wandern,
  Nich ist der Geist, doch ist der Fuss gebunden.

  "Wie soil ich dem, den ich so lang begleitet,
  Nun etwas Traulich's in die Ferne sagen?
  Ihm der sich selbst im Innersten bestreitet,
  Stark angewohnt das tiefste Weh zu tragen.

  "Wohl sey ihm doch, wenn er sich selbst empfindet!
  Er wage selbst sich hoch beglückt zu nennen,
  Wenn Musenkraft die Schmerzen überwindet,
  Und wie ich ihn erkannt mög' er sich kennen.

"The verses reached Genoa, but the excellent friend to whom they were
addressed was already gone, and to a distance, as it appeared,
inaccessible. Driven back, however, by storms, he landed at Leghorn,
where these cordial lines reached him just as he was about to embark,
on the 24th of July, 1823. He had barely time to answer by a
well-filled page, which the possessor has preserved among his most
precious papers, as the worthiest evidence of the connection that had
been formed. Affecting and delightful as was such a document, and
justifying the most lively hopes, it has acquired now the greatest,
though most painful value, from the untimely death of the lofty
writer, which adds a peculiar edge to the grief felt generally
throughout the whole moral and poetical world at his loss: for we
were warranted in hoping, that when his great deeds should have been
achieved, we might personally have greeted in him the pre-eminent
intellect, the happily acquired friend, and the most humane of
conquerors. At present we can only console ourselves with the
conviction that his country will at last recover from that violence
of invective and reproach which has been so long raised against him,
and will learn to understand that the dross and lees of the age and
the individual, out of which even the best have to elevate
themselves, are but perishable and transient, while the wonderful
glory to which he in the present and through all future ages has
elevated his country, will be as boundless in its splendour as it is
incalculable in its consequences. Nor can there be any doubt that the
nation, which can boast of so many great names, will class him among
the first of those through whom she has acquired such glory."

The following is Lord Byron's answer to the communication above
mentioned from Goethe:--


LETTER 524. TO GOETHE.

"Leghorn, July 24. 1823.

"Illustrious Sir,

"I cannot thank you as you ought to be thanked for the lines which my
young friend, Mr. Sterling, sent me of yours; and it would but ill
become me to pretend to exchange verses with him who, for fifty
years, has been the undisputed sovereign of European literature. You
must therefore accept my most sincere acknowledgments in prose--and
in hasty prose too; for I am at present on my voyage to Greece once
more, and surrounded by hurry and bustle, which hardly allow a moment
even to gratitude and admiration to express themselves.

"I sailed from Genoa some days ago, was driven back by a gale of
wind, and have since sailed again and arrived here, 'Leghorn,' this
morning, to receive on board some Greek passengers for their
struggling country.

"Here also I found your lines and Mr. Sterling's letter; and I could
not have had a more favourable omen, a more agreeable surprise, than
a word of Goethe, written by his own hand.

"I am returning to Greece, to see if I can be of any little use
there: if ever I come back, I will pay a visit to Weimar, to offer
the sincere homage of one of the many millions of your admirers. I
have the honour to be, ever and most,

"Your obliged,

"NOEL BYRON."


From Leghorn, where his Lordship was joined by Mr. Hamilton Browne,
he set sail on the 24th of July, and, after about ten days of most
favourable weather, cast anchor at Argostoli, the chief port of
Cephalonia.

It had been thought expedient that Lord Byron should, with the view
of informing himself correctly respecting Greece, direct his course,
in the first instance, to one of the Ionian islands, from whence, as
from a post of observation, he might be able to ascertain the exact
position of affairs before he landed on the continent. For this
purpose it had been recommended that either Zante or Cephalonia
should be selected; and his choice was chiefly determined towards the
latter island by his knowledge of the talents and liberal feelings of
the Resident, Colonel Napier. Aware, however, that, in the yet
doubtful aspect of the foreign policy of England, his arrival thus on
an expedition so declaredly in aid of insurrection might have the
effect of embarrassing the existing authorities, he resolved to adopt
such a line of conduct as would be the least calculated either to
compromise or offend them. It was with this view he now thought it
prudent not to land at Argostoli, but to await on board his vessel
such information from the Government of Greece as should enable him
to decide upon his further movements.

The arrival of a person so celebrated at Argostoli excited naturally
a lively sensation, as well among the Greeks as the English of that
place; and the first approaches towards intercourse between the
latter and their noble visiter were followed instantly, on both
sides, by that sort of agreeable surprise which, from the false
notions they had preconceived of each other, was to be expected. His
countrymen, who, from the exaggerated stories they had so often heard
of his misanthropy and especial horror of the English, expected their
courtesies to be received with a haughty, if not insulting coldness,
found, on the contrary, in all his demeanour a degree of open and
cheerful affability which, calculated, as it was, to charm under any
circumstances, was to them, expecting so much the reverse, peculiarly
fascinating;--while he, on his side, even still more sensitively
prepared, by a long course of brooding over his own fancies, for a
cold and reluctant reception from his countrymen, found himself
greeted at once with a welcome so cordial and respectful as not only
surprised and flattered, but, it was evident, sensibly touched him.
Among other hospitalities accepted by him was a dinner with the
officers of the garrison, at which, on his health being drunk, he is
reported to have said, in returning thanks, that "he was doubtful
whether he could express his sense of the obligation as he ought,
having been so long in the practice of speaking a foreign language
that it was with some difficulty he could convey the whole force of
what he felt in his own."

Having despatched messengers to Corfu and Missolonghi in quest of
information, he resolved, while waiting their return, to employ his
time in a journey to Ithaca, which island is separated from that of
Cephalonia but by a narrow strait. On his way to Vathi, the chief
city of the island, to which place he had been invited, and his
journey hospitably facilitated, by the Resident, Captain Knox, he
paid a visit to the mountain-cave in which, according to tradition,
Ulysses deposited the presents of the Phæacians. "Lord Byron (says
Count Gamba) ascended to the grotto, but the steepness and height
prevented him from reaching the remains of the Castle. I myself
experienced considerable difficulty in gaining it. Lord Byron sat
reading in the grotto, but fell asleep. I awoke him on my return, and
he said that I had interrupted dreams more pleasant than ever he had
before in his life."

Though unchanged, since he first visited these regions, in his
preference of the wild charms of Nature to all the classic
associations of Art and History, he yet joined with much interest in
any pilgrimage to those places which tradition had sanctified. At the
Fountain of Arethusa, one of the spots of this kind which he visited,
a repast had been prepared for himself and his party by the Resident;
and at the School of Homer,--as some remains beyond Chioni are
called,--he met with an old refugee bishop, whom he had known
thirteen years before in Livadia, and with whom he now conversed of
those times, with a rapidity and freshness of recollection with which
the memory of the old bishop could but ill keep pace. Neither did the
traditional Baths of Penelope escape his research; and "however
sceptical (says a lady, who, soon after, followed his footsteps,) he
might have been as to these supposed localities, he never offended
the natives by any objection to the reality of their fancies. On the
contrary, his politeness and kindness won the respect and admiration
of all those Greek gentlemen who saw him; and to me they spoke of him
with enthusiasm."

Those benevolent views by which, even more, perhaps, than by any
ambition of renown, he proved himself to be actuated in his present
course, had, during his short stay at Ithaca, opportunities of
disclosing themselves. On learning that a number of poor families had
fled thither from Scio, Patras, and other parts of Greece, he not
only presented to the Commandant three thousand piastres for their
relief, but by his generosity to one family in particular, which had
once been in a state of affluence at Patras, enabled them to repair
their circumstances and again live in comfort. "The eldest girl (says
the lady whom I have already quoted) became afterwards the mistress
of the school formed at Ithaca; and neither she, her sister, nor
mother, could ever speak of Lord Byron without the deepest feeling of
gratitude, and of regret for his too premature death."

After occupying in this excursion about eight days, he had again
established himself on board the Hercules, when one of the messengers
whom he had despatched returned, bringing a letter to him from the
brave Marco Botzari, whom he had left among the mountains of Agrafa,
preparing for that attack in which he so gloriously fell. The
following are the terms in which this heroic chief wrote to Lord
Byron:--

"Your letter, and that of the venerable Ignazio, have filled me with
joy. Your Excellency is exactly the person of whom we stand in need.
Let nothing prevent you from coming into this part of Greece. The
enemy threatens us in great number; but, by the help of God and your
Excellency, they shall meet a suitable resistance. I shall have
something to do to-night against a corps of six or seven thousand
Albanians, encamped close to this place. The day after to-morrow I
will set out with a few chosen companions, to meet your Excellency.
Do not delay. I thank you for the good opinion you have of my
fellow-citizens, which God grant you will not find ill-founded; and I
thank you still more for the care you have so kindly taken of them.

"Believe me," &c.

In the expectation that Lord Byron would proceed forthwith to
Missolonghi, it had been the intention of Botzari, as the above
letter announces, to leave the army, and hasten, with a few of his
brother warriors, to receive their noble ally on his landing in a
manner worthy of the generous mission on which he came. The above
letter, however, preceded but by a few hours his death. That very
night he penetrated, with but a handful of followers, into the midst
of the enemy's camp, whose force was eight thousand strong, and after
leading his heroic band over heaps of dead, fell, at last, close to
the tent of the Pasha himself.

The mention made in this brave Suliote's letter of Lord Byron's care
of his fellow-citizens refers to a popular act done recently by the
noble poet at Cephalonia, in taking into his pay, as a body-guard,
forty of this now homeless tribe. On finding, however, that for want
of employment they were becoming restless and turbulent, he
despatched them off soon after, armed and provisioned, to join in the
defence of Missolonghi, which was at that time besieged on one side
by a considerable force, and blockaded on the other by a Turkish
squadron. Already had he, with a view to the succour of this place,
made a generous offer to the Government, which he thus states himself
in one of his letters:--"I offered to advance a thousand dollars a
month for the succour of Missolonghi, and the Suliotes under Botzari
(since killed); but the Government have answered me, that they wish
to confer with me previously, which is in fact saying they wish me to
expend my money in some other direction. I will take care that it is
for the public cause, otherwise I will not advance a para. The
opposition say they want to cajole me, and the party in power say the
others wish to seduce me, so between the two I have a difficult part
to play; however, I will have nothing to do with the factions unless
to reconcile them if possible."

In these last few sentences is described briefly the position in
which Lord Byron was now placed, and in which the coolness,
foresight, and self-possession he displayed sufficiently refute the
notion that even the highest powers of imagination, whatever effect
they may sometimes produce on the moral temperament, are at all
incompatible with the sound practical good sense, the steadily
balanced views, which the business of active life requires.

The great difficulty, to an observer of the state of Greece at this
crisis, was to be able clearly to distinguish between what was real
and what was merely apparent in those tests by which the probability
of her future success or failure was to be judged. With a Government
little more than nominal, having neither authority nor resources, its
executive and legislative branches being openly at variance, and the
supplies that ought to fill its exchequer being intercepted by the
military Chiefs, who, as they were, in most places, collectors of the
revenue, were able to rob by authority;--with that curse of all
popular enterprises, a multiplicity of leaders, each selfishly
pursuing his own objects, and ready to make the sword the umpire of
their claims;--with a fleet furnished by private adventure, and
therefore precarious; and an army belonging rather to its Chiefs than
to the Government, and, accordingly, trusting more to plunder than to
pay;--with all these principles of mischief, and, as it would seem,
ruin at the very heart of the struggle, it had yet persevered, which
was in itself victory, through three trying campaigns; and at this
moment presented, in the midst of all its apparent weakness and
distraction, some elements of success which both accounted for what
had hitherto been effected, and gave a hope, with more favouring
circumstances, of something nobler yet to come.

Besides the never-failing encouragement which the incapacity of their
enemies afforded them, the Greeks derived also from the geographical
conformation of their country those same advantages with which nature
had blessed their great ancestors, and which had contributed mainly
perhaps to the formation, as well as maintenance, of their high
national character. Islanders and mountaineers, they were, by their
very position, heirs to the blessings of freedom and commerce; nor
had the spirit of either, through all their long slavery and
sufferings, ever wholly died away. They had also, luckily, in a
political as well as religious point of view, preserved that sacred
line of distinction between themselves and their conquerors which a
fond fidelity to an ancient church could alone have maintained for
them;--keeping thus holily in reserve, against the hour of struggle,
that most stirring of all the excitements to which Freedom can appeal
when she points to her flame rising out of the censer of Religion. In
addition to these, and all the other moral advantages included in
them, for which the Greeks were indebted to their own nature and
position, is to be taken also into account the aid and sympathy they
had every right to expect from others, as soon as their exertions in
their own cause should justify the confidence that it would be
something more than the mere chivalry of generosity to assist
them.[1]

[Footnote 1: For a clear and concise sketch of the state of Greece at
this crisis, executed with all that command of the subject which a
long residence in the country alone could give, see Colonel Leake's
"Historical Outline of the Greek Revolution."]

Such seem to have been the chief features of hope which the state of
Greece, at this moment, presented. But though giving promise,
perhaps, of a lengthened continuance of the struggle, they, in that
very promise, postponed indefinitely the period of its success; and
checked and counteracted as were these auspicious appearances by the
manifold and inherent evils above enumerated,--by a consideration,
too, of the resources and obstinacy of the still powerful Turk, and
of the little favour with which it was at all probable that the
Courts of Europe would ever regard the attempt of any people, under
any circumstances, to be their own emancipators,--none, assuredly,
but a most sanguine spirit could indulge in the dream that Greece
would be able to work out her own liberation, or that aught, indeed,
but a fortuitous concurrence of political circumstances could ever
accomplish it. Like many other such contests between right and might,
it was a cause destined, all felt, to be successful, but at its own
ripe hour;--a cause which individuals might keep alive, but which
events, wholly independent of them, alone could accomplish, and
which, after the hearts, and hopes, and lives of all its bravest
defenders had been wasted upon it, would at last to other hands, and
even to other means than those contemplated by its first champions,
owe its completion.

That Lord Byron, on a nearer view of the state of Greece, saw it much
in the light I have here regarded it in, his letters leave no room to
doubt. Neither was the impression he had early received of the Greeks
themselves at all improved by the present renewal of his acquaintance
with them. Though making full allowance for the causes that had
produced their degeneracy, he still saw that they were grossly
degenerate, and must be dealt with and counted upon accordingly. "I
am of St. Paul's opinion," said he, "that there is no difference
between Jews and Greeks,--the character of both being equally vile."
With such means and materials, the work of regeneration, he knew,
must be slow; and the hopelessness he therefore felt as to the
chances of ever connecting his name with any essential or permanent
benefit to Greece, gives to the sacrifice he now made of himself a
far more touching interest than had the consciousness of dying for
some great object been at once his incitement and reward. He but
looked upon himself,--to use a favourite illustration of his own,--as
one of the many waves that must break and die upon the shore, before
the tide they help to advance can reach its full mark. "What
signifies Self," was his generous thought, "if a single spark of that
which would be worthy of the past can be bequeathed unquenchedly to
the future?"[1] Such was the devoted feeling with which he embarked
in the cause of Italy; and these words, which, had they remained
_only_ words, the unjust world would have pronounced but an idle
boast, have now received from his whole course in Greece a practical
comment, which gives them all the right of truth to be engraved
solemnly on his tomb.

[Footnote 1: _Diary of_ 1821.--The same distrustful and, as it turned
out, just view of the chances of success were taken by him also on
that occasion:--"I shall not," he says, "fall back;--though I don't
think them in force or heart sufficient to make much of it."]

Though with so little hope of being able to serve signally the cause,
the task of at least lightening, by his interposition, some of the
manifold mischiefs that pressed upon it, might yet, he thought, be
within his reach. To convince the Government and the Chiefs of the
paralysing effect of their dissensions;--to inculcate that spirit of
union among themselves which alone could give strength against their
enemies;--to endeavour to humanise the feelings of the belligerents
on both sides, so as to take from the war that character of barbarism
which deterred the more civilised friends of freedom through Europe
from joining in it;--such were, in addition to the now essential aid
of his money, the great objects which he proposed to effect by his
interference; and to these he accordingly, with all the candour,
clear-sightedness, and courage which so pre-eminently distinguished
his great mind, applied himself.

Aware that, to judge deliberately of the state of parties, he must
keep out of their vortex, and warned, by the very impatience and
rivalry with which the different chiefs courted his presence, of the
risk he should run by connecting himself with any, he resolved to
remain, for some time longer, in his station at Cephalonia, and there
avail himself of the facilities afforded by the position for
collecting information as to the real state of affairs, and
ascertaining in what quarter his own presence and money would be most
available. During the six weeks that had elapsed since his arrival at
Cephalonia, he had been living in the most comfortless manner, pent
up with pigs and poultry, on board the vessel which brought him.
Having now come, however, to the determination of prolonging his
stay, he decided also upon fixing his abode on shore; and, for the
sake of privacy, retired to a small village, called Metaxata, about
seven miles from Argostoli, where he continued to reside during the
remainder of his stay on the island.

Before this change of residence, he had despatched Mr. Hamilton
Browne and Mr. Trelawney with a letter to the existing Government of
Greece, explanatory of his own views and those of the Committee whom
he represented; and it was not till a month after his removal to
Metaxata that intelligence from these gentlemen reached him. The
picture they gave of the state of the country was, in most respects,
confirmatory of what has already been described as his own view of
it;--incapacity and selfishness at the head of affairs,
disorganisation throughout the whole body politic, but still, with
all this, the heart of the nation sound, and bent on resistance. Nor
could he have failed to be struck with the close family resemblance
to the ancient race of the country which this picture
exhibited;--that great people, in the very midst of their own endless
dissensions, having been ever ready to face round in concert against
the foe.

His Lordship's agents had been received with all due welcome by the
Government, who were most desirous that he should set out for the
Morea without delay; and pressing letters to the same purport, both
from the Legislative and Executive bodies, accompanied those which
reached him from Messrs. Browne and Trelawney. He was, however,
determined not to move till his own selected time, having seen
reason, the farther insight he obtained into their intrigues, to
congratulate himself but the more on his prudence in not plunging
into the maze without being first furnished with those guards against
deception which the information he was now acquiring supplied him.

To give an idea, as briefly as possible, of the sort of conflicting
calls that were from various scenes of action, reaching him in his
retirement, it may be sufficient to mention that, while by Metaxa,
the present governor of Missolonghi, he was entreated earnestly to
hasten to the relief of that place, which the Turks were now
blockading both by land and by sea, the head of the military chiefs,
Colocotroni, was no less earnestly urging that he should present
himself at the approaching congress of Salamis, where, under the
dictation of these rude warriors, the affairs of the country were to
be settled,--while at the same time, from another quarter, the great
opponent of these chieftains, Mavrocordato, was, with more urgency,
as well as more ability than any, endeavouring to impress upon him
his own views, and imploring his presence at Hydra, whither he
himself had just been forced to retire.

The mere knowledge, indeed, that a noble Englishman had arrived in
those regions, so unprepossessed by any party as to inspire a hope of
his alliance in all, and with money, by common rumour, as abundant as
the imaginations of the needy chose to make it, was, in itself, fully
sufficient, without any of the more elevated claims of his name, to
attract towards him all thoughts. "It is easier to conceive," says
Count Gamba, "than to relate the various means employed to engage him
in one faction or the other: letters, messengers, intrigues, and
recriminations,--nay, each faction had its agents exerting every art
to degrade its opponent." He then adds a circumstance strongly
illustrative of a peculiar feature in the noble poet's
character:--"He occupied himself in discovering the truth, hidden as
it was under these intrigues, and _amused himself in confronting the
agents of the different factions_."

During all these occupations he went on pursuing his usual simple and
uniform course of life,--rising, however, for the despatch of
business, at an early hour, which showed how capable he was of
conquering even long habit when necessary. Though so much occupied,
too, he was, at all hours, accessible to visitors; and the facility
with which he allowed even the dullest people to break in upon him
was exemplified, I am told, strongly in the case of one of the
officers of the garrison, who, without being able to understand any
thing of the poet but his good-nature, used to say, whenever he found
his time hang heavily on his hands,--"I think I shall ride out and
have a little talk with Lord Byron."

The person, however, whose visits appeared to give him most pleasure,
as well from the interest he took in the subject on which they
chiefly conversed, as from the opportunities, sometimes, of
pleasantry which the peculiarities of his visiter afforded him, was a
medical gentleman named Kennedy, who, from a strong sense of the
value of religion to himself, had taken up the benevolent task of
communicating his own light to others. The first origin of their
intercourse was an undertaking, on the part of this gentleman, to
convert to a firm belief in Christianity some rather sceptical
friends of his, then at Argostoli. Happening to hear of the meeting
appointed for this purpose, Lord Byron begged that he might be
allowed to attend, saying to the person through whom he conveyed his
request, "You know I am reckoned a black sheep,--yet, after all, not
so black as the world believes me." He had promised to convince Dr.
Kennedy that, "though wanting, perhaps, in faith, he at least had
patience:" but the process of so many hours of lecture,--no less than
twelve, without interruption, being stipulated for,--was a trial
beyond his strength; and, very early in the operation, as the Doctor
informs us, he began to show evident signs of a wish to exchange the
part of hearer for that of speaker. Notwithstanding this, however,
there was in all his deportment, both as listener and talker, such a
degree of courtesy, candour, and sincere readiness to be taught, as
excited interest, if not hope, for his future welfare in the good
Doctor; and though he never after attended the more numerous
meetings, his conferences, on the same subject, with Dr. Kennedy
alone, were not infrequent during the remainder of his stay at
Cephalonia.

These curious conversations are now published; and to the value which
they possess as a simple and popular exposition of the chief
evidences of Christianity, is added the charm that must ever dwell
round the character of one of the interlocutors, and the almost
fearful interest attached to every word that, on such a subject, he
utters. In the course of the first conversation, it will be seen that
Lord Byron expressly disclaimed being one of those infidels "who deny
the Scriptures, and wish to remain in unbelief." On the contrary, he
professed himself "desirous to believe; as he experienced no
happiness in having his religious opinions so unfixed." He was
unable, however, he added, "to understand the Scriptures. Those who
conscientiously believed them he could always respect, and was always
disposed to trust in them more than in others; but he had met with so
many whose conduct differed from the principles which they professed,
and who seemed to profess those principles either because they were
paid to do so, or from some other motive which an intimate
acquaintance with their character would enable one to detect, that
altogether he had seen few, if any, whom he could rely upon as truly
and conscientiously believing the Scriptures."

We may take for granted that these Conversations,--more especially
the first, from the number of persons present who would report the
proceedings,--excited considerable interest among the society of
Argostoli. It was said that Lord Byron had displayed such a profound
knowledge of the Scriptures as astonished, and even puzzled, the
polemic Doctor; while in all the eminent writers on theological
subjects he had shown himself far better versed than his more
pretending opponent. All this Dr. Kennedy strongly denies; and the
truth seems to be, that on neither side were there much stores of
theological learning. The confession of the lecturer himself, that he
had not read the works of Stillingfleet or Barrow, shows that, in his
researches after orthodoxy, he had not allowed himself any very
extensive range; while the alleged familiarity of Lord Byron with the
same authorities must be taken with a similar abatement of credence
and wonder to that which his own account of his youthful studies,
already given, requires;--a rapid eye and retentive memory having
enabled him, on this as on most other subjects, to catch, as it were,
the salient points on the surface of knowledge, and the recollections
he thus gathered being, perhaps, the livelier from his not having
encumbered himself with more. To any regular train of reasoning, even
on this his most favourite topic, it was not possible to lead him. He
would start objections to the arguments of others, and detect their
fallacies; but of any consecutive ratiocination on his own side he
seemed, if not incapable, impatient. In this, indeed, as in many
other peculiarities belonging to him,--his caprices, fits of weeping,
sudden affections and dislikes,--may be observed striking traces of a
feminine cast of character;--it being observable that the discursive
faculty is rarely exercised by women; but that nevertheless, by the
mere instinct of truth (as was the case with Lord Byron), they are
often enabled at once to light upon the very conclusion to which man,
through all the forms of reasoning, is, in the mean time, puzzling,
and, perhaps, losing his way:--

  "And strikes each point with native force of mind,
  While puzzled logic blunders far behind."

Of the Scriptures, it is certain that Lord Byron was a frequent and
almost daily reader,--the small pocket Bible which, on his leaving
England, had been given him by his sister, being always near him. How
much, in addition to his natural solicitude on the subject of
religion, the taste of the poet influenced him in this line of study,
may be seen in his frequently expressed admiration of "the
ghost-scene," as he called it, in Samuel, and his comparison of this
supernatural appearance with the Mephistopheles of Goethe. In the
same manner, his imagination appears to have been much struck by the
notion of his lecturer, that the circumstance mentioned in Job of the
Almighty summoning Satan into his presence was to be interpreted,
not, as he thought, allegorically and poetically, but literally. More
than once we find him expressing to Dr. Kennedy "how much this belief
of the real appearance of Satan to hear and obey the commands of God
added to his views of the grandeur and majesty of the Creator."

On the whole, the interest of these Conversations, as far as regards
Lord Byron, arises not so much from any new or certain lights they
supply us with on the subject of his religious opinions, as from the
evidence they afford of his amiable facility of intercourse, the
total absence of bigotry or prejudice from even his most favourite
notions, and--what may be accounted, perhaps, the next step in
conversion to belief itself--his disposition to believe. As far,
indeed, as a frank submission to the charge of being wrong may be
supposed to imply an advance on the road to being right, few persons,
it must be acknowledged, under a process of proselytism, ever showed
more of this desired symptom of change than Lord Byron. "I own," says
a witness to one of these conversations[1], "I felt astonished to
hear Lord Byron submit to lectures on his life, his vanity, and the
uselessness of his talents, which made me stare."

[Footnote 1: Mr. Finlay.]

As most persons will be tempted to refer to the work itself, there
are but one or two other opinions of his Lordship recorded in it
which I shall think necessary to notice here. A frequent question of
his to Dr. Kennedy was,--"What, then, you think me in a very bad
way?"--the usual answer to which being in the affirmative, he, on one
occasion, replied,--"I am now, however, in a fairer way. I already
believe in predestination, which I know you believe, and in the
depravity of the human heart in general, and of my own in
particular:--thus you see there are two points in which we agree. I
shall get at the others by and by; but you cannot expect me to become
a perfect Christian at once." On the subject of Dr. Southwood's
amiable and, it is to be hoped for the sake of Christianity and the
human race, _orthodox_ work on "The Divine Government," he thus
spoke:--"I cannot decide the point; 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 God, whose power is omnipotent, and whose chief
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."

I shall now insert, with such explanatory remarks as they may seem to
require, some of the letters, official as well as private, which his
Lordship wrote while at Cephalonia; and from which the reader may
collect, in a manner far more interesting than through the medium of
any narrative, a knowledge both of the events now passing in Greece,
and of the views and feelings with which they were regarded by Lord
Byron.

To Madame Guiccioli he wrote frequently, but briefly, and, for the
first time, in English; adding always a few lines in her brother
Pietro's letters to her. The following are extracts.


"October 7.

"Pietro has told you all the gossip of the island,--our earthquakes,
our politics, and present abode in a pretty village. As his opinions
and mine on the Greeks are nearly similar, I need say little on that
subject. I was a fool to come here; but, being here, I must see what
is to be done."


"October ----.

"We are still in Cephalonia, waiting for news of a more accurate
description; for all is contradiction and division in the reports of
the state of the Greeks. I shall fulfil the object of my mission from
the Committee, and then return into Italy; for it does not seem
likely that, as an individual, I can be of use to them;--at least no
other foreigner has yet appeared to be so, nor does it seem likely
that any will be at present.

"Pray be as cheerful and tranquil as you can; and be assured that
there is nothing here that can excite any thing but a wish to be with
you again,--though we are very kindly treated by the English here of
all descriptions. Of the Greeks, I can't say much good hitherto, and
I do not like to speak ill of them, though they do of one another."


"October 29.

"You may be sure that the moment I can join you again, will be as
welcome to me as at any period of our recollection. There is nothing
very attractive here to divide my attention; but I must attend to the
Greek cause, both from honour and inclination. Messrs. B. and T. are
both in the Morea, where they have been very well received, and both
of them write in good spirits and hopes. I am anxious to hear how the
Spanish cause will be arranged, as I think it may have an influence
on the Greek contest. I wish that both were fairly and favourably
settled, that I might return to Italy, and talk over with you _our_,
or rather Pietro's adventures, some of which are rather amusing, as
also some of the incidents of our voyages and travels. But I reserve
them, in the hope that we may laugh over them together at no very
distant period."


LETTER 525. TO MR. BOWRING.

"9bre 29. 1823.

"This letter will be presented to you by Mr. Hamilton Browne, who
precedes or accompanies the Greek deputies. He is both capable and
desirous of rendering any service to the cause, and information to
the Committee. He has already been of considerable advantage to both,
of my own knowledge. Lord Archibald Hamilton, to whom he is related,
will add a weightier recommendation than mine.

"Corinth is taken, and a Turkish squadron said to be beaten in the
Archipelago. The public progress of the Greeks is considerable, but
their internal dissensions still continue. On arriving at the seat of
Government, I shall endeavour to mitigate or extinguish them--though
neither is an easy task. I have remained here till now, partly in
expectation of the squadron in relief of Missolonghi, partly of Mr.
Parry's detachment, and partly to receive from Malta or Zante the sum
of four thousand pounds sterling, which I have advanced for the
payment of the expected squadron. The bills are negotiating, and will
be cashed in a short time, as they would have been immediately in any
other mart; but the miserable Ionian merchants have little money, and
no great credit, and are besides _politically shy_ on this occasion;
for although I had letters of Messrs. Webb (one of the strongest
houses of the Mediterranean), and also of Messrs. Ransom, there is no
business to be done on _fair_ terms except through English merchants.
These, however, have proved both able and willing,--and upright as
usual.[1]

[Footnote 1: The English merchants whom he thus so justly describes,
are Messrs. Barff and Hancock, of Zante, whose conduct, not only in
the instance of Lord Byron, but throughout the whole Greek struggle,
has been uniformly most zealous and disinterested.]

"Colonel Stanhope has arrived, and will proceed immediately; he shall
have my co-operation in all his endeavours: but, from every thing
that I can learn, the formation of a brigade at present will be
extremely difficult, to say the least of it. With regard to the
reception of foreigners,--at least of foreign officers,--I refer you
to a passage in Prince Mavrocordato's recent letter, a copy of which
is enclosed in my packet sent to the Deputies. It is my intention to
proceed by sea to Napoli di Romania as soon as I have arranged this
business for the Greeks themselves--I mean the advance of two hundred
thousand piastres for their fleet.

"My time here has not been entirely lost,--as you will perceive by
some former documents that any advantage from my _then_ proceeding to
the Morea was doubtful. We have at last moved the Deputies, and I
have made a strong remonstrance on their divisions to Mavrocordato,
which, I understand, was forwarded by the Legislative to the Prince.
With a loan they _may_ do much, which is all that _I_, for particular
reasons, can say on the subject.

"I regret to hear from Colonel Stanhope that the Committee have
exhausted their funds. Is it supposed that a brigade can be formed
without them? or that three thousand pounds would be sufficient? It
is true that money will go farther in Greece than in most countries;
but the regular force must be rendered a _national concern_, and paid
from a national fund; and neither individuals nor committees, at
least with the usual means of such as now exist, will find the
experiment practicable.

"I beg once more to recommend my friend, Mr. Hamilton Browne, to whom
I have also personal obligations, for his exertions in the common
cause, and have the honour to be

"Yours very truly."

His remonstrance to Prince Mavrocordato, here mentioned, was
accompanied by another, addressed to the existing Government; and
Colonel Stanhope, who was about to proceed to Napoli and Argos, was
made the bearer of both. The wise and noble spirit that pervades
these two papers must, of itself, without any further comment, be
appreciated by all readers.[1]

[Footnote 1: The originals of both are in Italian.]


LETTER 526.

TO THE GENERAL GOVERNMENT OF GREECE.

"Cephalonia, November 30. 1823.

"The affair of the Loan, the expectations so long and vainly indulged
of the arrival of the Greek fleet, and the danger to which
Missolonghi is still exposed, have detained me here, and will still
detain me till some of them are removed. But when the money shall be
advanced for the fleet, I will start for the Morea; not knowing,
however, of what use my presence can be in the present state of
things. We have heard some rumours of new dissensions, nay, of the
existence of a civil war. With all my heart I pray that these reports
may be false or exaggerated, for I can imagine no calamity more
serious than this; and I must frankly confess, that unless union and
order are established, all hopes of a Loan will be vain; and all the
assistance which the Greeks could expect from abroad--an assistance
neither trifling nor worthless--will be suspended or destroyed; and,
what is worse, the great powers of Europe, of whom no one was an
enemy to Greece, but seemed to favour her establishment of an
independent power, will be persuaded that the Greeks are unable to
govern themselves, and will, perhaps, themselves undertake to settle
your disorders in such a way as to blast the brightest hopes of
yourselves and of your friends.

"Allow me to add, once for all,--I desire the well-being of Greece,
and nothing else; I will do all I can to secure it; but I cannot
consent, I never will consent, that the English public, or English
individuals, should be deceived as to the real state of Greek
affairs. The rest, Gentlemen, depends on you. You have fought
gloriously;--act honourably towards your fellow-citizens and the
world, and it will then no more be said, as has been repeated for two
thousand years with the Roman historians, that Philopoemen was the
last of the Grecians. Let not calumny itself (and it is difficult, I
own, to guard against it in so arduous a struggle,) compare the
patriot Greek, when resting from his labours, to the Turkish pacha,
whom his victories have exterminated.

"I pray you to accept these my sentiments as a sincere proof of my
attachment to your real interests, and to believe that I am and
always shall be

"Yours," &c.


LETTER 527. TO PRINCE MAVROCORDATO.

"Cephalonia, Dec. 2. 1823.

"Prince,

"The present will be put into your hands by Colonel Stanhope, son of
Major-General the Earl of Harrington, &c. &c. He has arrived from
London in fifty days, after having visited all the Committees of
Germany. He is charged by our Committee to act in concert with me for
the liberation of Greece. I conceive that his name and his mission
will be a sufficient recommendation, without the necessity of any
other from a foreigner, although one who, in common with all Europe,
respects and admires the courage, the talents, and, above all, the
probity of Prince Mavrocordato.

"I am very uneasy at hearing that the dissensions of Greece still
continue, and at a moment when she might triumph over every thing in
general, as she has already triumphed in part. Greece is, at present,
placed between three measures: either to reconquer her liberty, to
become a dependence of the sovereigns of Europe, or to return to a
Turkish province. She has the choice only of these three
alternatives. Civil war is but a road which leads to the two latter.
If she is desirous of the fate of Walachia and the Crimea, she may
obtain it to-morrow; if of that of Italy, the day after; but if she
wishes to become truly Greece, free and independent, she must resolve
to-day, or she will never again have the opportunity.

"I am, with all respect,

"Your Highness's obedient servant,

"N. B.

"P.S. Your Highness will already have known that I have sought to
fulfil the wishes of the Greek government, as much as it lay in my
power to do so: but I should wish that the fleet so long and so
vainly expected were arrived, or, at least, that it were on the way;
and especially that your Highness should approach these parts, either
on board the fleet, with a public mission, or in some other manner."


LETTER 528. TO MR. BOWRING.

"10bre 7. 1823.

"I confirm the above[1]: it is certainly my opinion that Mr.
Millingen is entitled to the same salary with Mr. Tindall, and his
service is likely to be harder.

[Footnote 1: He here alludes to a letter, forwarded with his own,
from Mr. Millingen, who was about to join, in his medical capacity,
the Suliotes, near Fatras, and requested of the Committee an increase
of pay. This gentleman, having mentioned in his letter "that the
retreat of the Turks from before Missolonghi had rendered unnecessary
the appearance of the Greek fleet," Lord Byron, in a note on this
passage, says, "By the special providence of the Deity, the
Mussulmans were seized with a panic, and fled; but no thanks to the
fleet, which ought to have been here months ago, and has no excuse to
the contrary, lately--at least since I had the money ready to pay."

On another passage, in which Mr. Millingen complains that his hope of
any remuneration from the Greeks has "turned out perfectly
chimerical," Lord Byron remarks, in a note, "and _will_ do so, till
they obtain a loan. They have not a rap, nor credit (in the islands)
to raise one. A medical man may succeed better than others; but all
these penniless officers had better have stayed at home. Much money
may not be required, but some must."]

"I have written to you (as to Mr. Hobhouse _for_ your perusal) by
various opportunities, mostly private; also by the Deputies, and by
Mr. Hamilton Browne.

"The public success of the Greeks has been considerable,--Corinth
taken, Missolonghi nearly safe, and some ships in the Archipelago
taken from the Turks; but there is not only dissension in the Morea,
but _civil war_, by the latest accounts[1]; to what extent we do not
yet know, but hope trifling.

[Footnote 1: The Legislative and Executive bodies having been for
some time at variance, the latter had at length resorted to violence,
and some skirmishes had already taken place between the factions.]

"For six weeks I have been expecting the fleet, _which has not
arrived_, though I have, at the request of the Greek Government,
advanced--that is, prepared, and have in hand two hundred thousand
piastres (deducting the commission and bankers' charges) of my own
monies to forward their projects. The Suliotes (now in Acarnania) are
very anxious that I should take them under my directions, and go over
and put things to rights in the Morea, which, without a force, seems
impracticable; and, really, though very reluctant (as my letters will
have shown you) to take such a measure, there seems hardly any milder
remedy. However, I will not do any thing rashly, and have only
continued here so long in the hope of seeing things reconciled, and
have done all in my power thereto. Had _I gone sooner, they would
have forced me into one party or other_, and I doubt as much now; but
we will do our best.

"Yours," &c.



LETTER 529. TO MR. BOWRING.

"October 10. 1823.

"Colonel Napier will present to you this letter. Of his military
character it were superfluous to speak: of his personal, I can say,
from my own knowledge, as well as from all public rumour or private
report, that it is as excellent as his military: in short, a better
or a braver man is not easily to be found. _He_ is our man to lead a
regular force, or to organise a national one for the Greeks. Ask the
army--ask any one. He is besides a personal friend of both Prince
Mavrocordato, Colonel Stanhope, and myself, and in such concord with
all three that we should all pull together--an indispensable, as well
as a rare point, especially in Greece at present.

"To enable a regular force to be properly organised, it will be
requisite for the loan-holders to set apart at least 50,000_l_.
sterling for that particular purpose--perhaps more; but by so doing
they will guarantee their own monies, 'and make assurance doubly
sure.' They can appoint commissioners to see that part property
expended--and I recommend a similar precaution for the whole.

"I hope that the deputies have arrived, as well as some of my various
despatches (chiefly addressed to Mr. Hobhouse) for the Committee.
Colonel Napier will tell you the recent special interposition of the
gods, in behalf of the Greeks--who seem to have no enemies in heaven
or on earth to be dreaded but their own tendency to discord amongst
themselves. But these, too, it is to be hoped, will be mitigated, and
then we can take the field on the offensive, instead of being reduced
to the _petite guerre_ of defending the same fortresses year after
year, and taking a few ships, and starving out a castle, and making
more fuss about them than Alexander in his cups, or Buonaparte in a
bulletin. Our friends have done something in the way of the
_Spartans_--(though not one tenth of what is told)--but have not yet
inherited _their_ style.

"Believe me yours," &c.


LETTER 530 TO MR. BOWRING.

"October 13. 1823.

"Since I wrote to you on the 10th instant, the long-desired squadron
has arrived in the waters of Missolonghi and intercepted two Turkish
corvettes--ditto transports--destroying or taking all four--except
some of the crews escaped on shore in Ithaca--and an unarmed vessel,
with passengers, chased into a port on the opposite side of
Cephalonia. The Greeks had fourteen sail, the Turks _four_--but the
odds don't matter--the victory will make a very good _puff_, and be
of some advantage besides. I expect momentarily advices from Prince
Mavrocordato, who is on board, and has (I understand) despatches from
the Legislative for me; in consequence of which, after paying the
squadron, (for which I have prepared, and am preparing,) I shall
probably join him at sea or on shore.

"I add the above communication to my letter by Col. Napier, who will
inform the Committee of every thing in detail much better than I can
do.

"The mathematical, medical, and musical preparations of the Committee
have arrived, and in good condition, abating some damage from wet,
and some ditto from a portion of the letter-press being spilt in
landing--(I ought not to have omitted the press--but forgot it a
moment--excuse the same)--they are excellent of their kind, but till
we have an engineer and a trumpeter (we have chirurgeons already)
mere 'pearls to swine,' as the Greeks are quite ignorant of
mathematics, and have a bad ear for _our_ music. The maps, &c. I will
put into use for them, and take care that _all_ (with proper caution)
are turned to the intended uses of the Committee--but I refer you to
Colonel Napier, who will tell you, that much of your really valuable
supplies should be removed till proper persons arrive to adapt them
to actual service.

"Believe me, my dear Sir, to be, &c.

"P.S. _Private_--I have written to our friend Douglas Kinnaird on my
own matters, desiring him to send me out all the' further credits I
can command,--and I have a year's income, and the sale of a manor
besides, he tells me, before me,--for till the Greeks get _their_
Loan, it is probable that I shall have to stand partly paymaster--as
far as I am 'good upon _Change_,' that is to say. I pray you to
repeat as much to _him_, and say that I must in the interim draw on
Messrs. Ransom most formidably. To say the truth, I do not grudge it
now the fellows have begun to fight _again_--and still more welcome
shall they be if they will go on. But they have had, or are to have,
some four thousand pounds (besides some private extraordinaries for
widows, orphans, refugees, and rascals of all descriptions,) of mine
at one 'swoop;' and it is to be expected the next will be at least as
much more. And how can I refuse it if they _will_ fight?--and
especially if I should happen ever to be in their company? I
therefore request and require that you should apprise my trusty and
trust-worthy trustee and banker, and crown and sheet-anchor, Douglas
Kinnaird the Honourable, that he prepare all monies of mine,
including the purchase money of Rochdale manor and mine income for
the year ensuing, A.D. 1824, to answer, or anticipate, any orders or
drafts of mine for the good cause, in good and lawful money of Great
Britain, &c. &c. May you live a thousand years I which is nine
hundred and ninety-nine longer than the Spanish Cortes'
Constitution."


LETTER 531.

TO THE HON. MR. DOUGLAS KINNAIRD.

"Cephalonia, December 23. 1823.

"I shall be as saving of my purse and person as you recommend; but
you know that it is as well to be in readiness with one or both, in
the event of either being required.

"I presume that some agreement has been concluded with Mr. Murray
about 'Werner.' Although the copyright should only be worth two or
three hundred pounds, I will tell you what can be done with them. For
three hundred pounds I can maintain in Greece, at more than the
_fullest pay_ of the Provisional Government, rations included, one
hundred armed men for _three months_. You may judge of this when I
tell you, that the four thousand pounds advanced by me to the Greeks
is likely to set a fleet and an army in motion for some months.

"A Greek vessel has arrived from the squadron to convey me to
Missolonghi, where Mavrocordato now is, and has assumed the command,
so that I expect to embark immediately. Still address, however, to
Cephalonia, through Messrs. Welch and Barry of Genoa, as usual; and
get together all the means and credit of mine you can, to face the
war establishment, for it is 'in for a penny, in for a pound,' and I
must do all that I can for the ancients.

"I have been labouring to reconcile these parties, and there is _now_
some hope of succeeding. Their public affairs go on well. The Turks
have retreated from Acarnania without a battle, after a few fruitless
attempts on Anatoliko. Corinth is taken, and the Greeks have gained a
battle in the Archipelago. The squadron here, too, has taken a
Turkish corvette with some money and a cargo. In short, if they can
obtain a Loan, I am of opinion that matters will assume and preserve
a steady and favourable aspect for their independence.

"In the mean time I stand paymaster, and what not; and lucky it is
that, from the nature of the warfare and of the country, the
resources even of an individual can be of a partial and temporary
service.

"Colonel Stanhope is at Missolonghi. Probably we shall attempt Patras
next. The Suliotes, who are friends of mine, seem anxious to have me
with them, and so is Mavrocordato. If I can but succeed in
reconciling the two parties (and I have left no stone unturned), it
will be something; and if not, we roust go over to the Morea with the
Western Greeks--who are the bravest, and at present the strongest,
having beaten back the Turks--and try the effect of a little
_physical_ advice, should they persist in rejecting _moral_
persuasion.

"Once more recommending to you the reinforcement of my strong box and
credit from all lawful sources and resources of mine to their
practicable extent--for, after all, it is better playing at nations
than gaming at Almack's or Newmarket--and requesting you to write to
me as often as you can,

"I remain ever," &c.

The squadron, so long looked for, having made its appearance at last
in the waters of Missolonghi, and Mavrocordato, the only leader of
the cause worthy the name of statesman, having been appointed, with
full powers, to organise Western Greece, the fit moment for Lord
Byron's presence on the scene of action seemed to have arrived. The
anxiety, indeed, with which he was expected at Missolonghi was
intense, and can be best judged from the impatient language of the
letters written to hasten him. "I need not tell you, my Lord," says
Mavrocordato, "how much I long for your arrival, to what a pitch your
presence is desired by every body, or what a prosperous direction it
will give to all our affairs. Your counsels will be listened to like
oracles." Colonel Stanhope, with the same urgency, writes from
Missolonghi,--"The Greek ship sent for your Lordship has returned;
your arrival was anticipated, and the disappointment has been great
indeed. The Prince is in a state of anxiety, the Admiral looks
gloomy, and the sailors grumble aloud." He adds at the end, "I walked
along the streets this evening, and the people asked me after Lord
Byron !!!" In a Letter to the London Committee of the same date,
Colonel Stanhope says, "All are looking forward to Lord Byron's
arrival, as they would to the coming of the Messiah."

Of this anxiety, no inconsiderable part is doubtless to be attributed
to their great impatience for the possession of the loan which he had
promised them, and on which they wholly depended for the payment of
the fleet--"Prince Mavrocordato and the Admiral (says the same
gentleman) are in a state of extreme perplexity: they, it seems,
relied on your loan for the payment of the fleet; that loan not
having been received, the sailors will depart immediately. This will
be a fatal event indeed, as it will place Missolonghi in a state of
blockade; and will prevent the Greek troops from acting against the
fortresses of Nepacto and Patras."

In the mean time Lord Byron was preparing busily for his departure,
the postponement of which latterly had been, in a great measure,
owing to that repugnance to any new change of place which had lately
so much grown upon him, and which neither love, as we have seen, nor
ambition, could entirely conquer. There had been also considerable
pains taken by some of his friends at Argostoli to prevent his fixing
upon a place of residence so unhealthy as Missolonghi; and Mr. Muir,
a very able medical officer, on whose talents he had much dependence,
endeavoured most earnestly to dissuade him from such an imprudent
step. His mind, however, was made up,--the proximity of that port, in
some degree, tempting him,--and having hired, for himself and suite,
a light, fast-sailing vessel, called the Mistico, with a boat for
part of his baggage, and a larger vessel for the remainder, the
horses, &c. he was, on the 26th of December, ready to sail. The wind,
however, being contrary, he was detained two days longer, and in this
interval the following letters were written.


LETTER 532. TO MR. BOWRING.

"10bre 26. 1823.

"Little need be added to the enclosed, which arrived this day, except
that I embark to-morrow for Missolonghi. The intended operations are
detailed in the annexed documents. I have only to request that the
Committee will use every exertion to forward our views by all its
influence and credit.

"I have also to request you _personally_ from myself to urge my
friend and trustee, Douglas Kinnaird (from whom I have not heard
these four months nearly), to forward to me all the resources of my
_own_ we can muster for the ensuing year; since it is no time to
ménager _purse_, or, perhaps, _person_. I have advanced, and am
advancing, all that I have in hand, but I shall require all that can
be got together;--and (if Douglas has completed the sale of Rochdale,
_that _ and my year's income for next year ought to form a good round
sum,)--as you may perceive that there will be little cash of their
own amongst the Greeks (unless they get the Loan), it is the more
necessary that those of their friends who have any should risk it.

"The supplies of the Committee are, some, useful, and all excellent
in their kind, but occasionally hardly _practical_ enough, in the
present state of Greece; for instance, the mathematical instruments
are thrown away--none of the Greeks know a problem from a poker--we
must conquer first, and plan afterwards. The use of the trumpets,
too, may be doubted, unless Constantinople were Jericho, for the
Helenists have no ears for bugles, and you must send us somebody to
listen to them.

"We will do our best--and I pray you to stir your English hearts at
home to more _general_ exertion; for my part, I will stick by the
cause while a plank remains which can be _honourably_ clung to. If I
quit it, it will be by the Greeks' conduct, and not the Holy Allies
or holier Mussulmans--but let us hope better things.

"Ever yours, N. B.

"P.S. I am happy to say that Colonel Leicester Stanhope and myself
are acting in perfect harmony together--he is likely to be of great
service both to the cause and to the Committee, and is publicly as
well as personally a very valuable acquisition to our party on every
account. He came up (as they all do who have not been in the country
before) with some high-flown notions of the sixth form at Harrow or
Eton, &c.; but Col. Napier and I set him to rights on those points,
which is absolutely necessary to prevent disgust, or perhaps return;
but now we can set our shoulders _soberly_ to the _wheel_, without
quarrelling with the mud which may clog it occasionally.

"I can assure you that Col. Napier and myself are as decided for the
cause as any German student of them all; but like men who have seen
the country and human life, there and elsewhere, we must be permitted
to view it in its truth, with its defects as well as beauties,--more
especially as success will remove the former _gradually_. N. B.

"P.S. As much of this letter as you please is for the Committee, the
rest may be 'entre nous.'"


LETTER 533. TO MR. MOORE.

"Cephalonia, December 27. 1823.

"I received a letter from you some time ago. I have been too much
employed latterly to write as I could wish, and even now must write
in haste.

"I embark for Missolonghi to join Mavrocordato in four-and-twenty
hours. The state of parties (but it were a long story) has kept me
here till _now_; but now that Mavrocordato (their Washington, or
their Kosciusko) is employed again, I can act with a _safe
conscience._ I carry money to pay the squadron, &c., and I have
influence with the Suliotes, _supposed _ sufficient to keep them in
harmony with some of the dissentients;--for there are plenty of
differences, but trifling.

"It is imagined that we shall attempt either Patras or the castles on
the Straits; and it seems, by most accounts, that the Greeks, at any
rate, the Suliotes, who are in affinity with me of 'bread and
salt,'--expect that I should march with them, and--be it even so! If
any thing in the way of fever, fatigue, famine, or otherwise, should
cut short the middle age of a brother warbler,--like Garcilasso de la
Vega, Kleist, Korner, Joukoffsky[1] (a Russian nightingale--see
Bowring's Anthology), or Thersander, or,--or somebody else--but never
mind--I pray you to remember me in your 'smiles and wine.'

[Footnote 1: One of the most celebrated of the living poets of
Russia, who fought at Borodino, and has commemorated that battle in a
poem of much celebrity among his countrymen.]

"I have hopes that the cause will triumph; but whether it does or no,
still 'honour must be minded as strictly as milk diet,' I trust to
observe both,

"Ever," &c.

It is hardly necessary to direct the attention of the reader to the
sad, and but too true anticipation expressed in this letter--the last
but one I was ever to receive from my friend. Before we accompany him
to the closing scene of all his toils, I shall here, as briefly as
possible, give a selection from the many characteristic anecdotes
told of him, while at Cephalonia, where (to use the words of Colonel
Stanhope, in a letter from thence to the Greek committee,) he was
"beloved by Cephalonians, by English, and by Greeks;" and where,
approached as he was familiarly by persons of all classes and
countries, not an action, not a word is recorded of him that does not
bear honourable testimony to the benevolence and soundness of his
views, his ever ready but discriminating generosity, and the clear
insight, at once minute and comprehensive, which he had acquired into
the character and wants of the people and the cause he came to serve.
"Of all those who came to help the Greeks," says Colonel Napier, (a
person himself the most qualified to judge, as well from long local
knowledge, as from the acute, straightforward cast of his own mind,)
"I never knew one, except Lord Byron and Mr. Gordon, that seemed to
have justly estimated their character. All came expecting to find the
Peloponnesus filled with Plutarch's men, and all returned thinking
the inhabitants of Newgate more moral. Lord Byron judged them fairly:
he knew that half-civilised men are full of vices, and that great
allowance must be made for emancipated slaves. He, therefore,
proceeded, bridle in hand, not thinking them good, but hoping to make
them better."[1]

[Footnote 1: A similar tribute was paid to him by Count Delladecima,
a gentleman of some literary acquirements, of whom he saw a good deal
at Cephalonia, and to whom he was attracted by that sympathy which
never failed to incline him towards those who laboured, like himself,
under any personal defects. "Of all the men," said this gentleman,
"whom I have had an opportunity of conversing with, on the means of
establishing the independence of Greece, and regenerating the
character of the natives, Lord Byron appears to entertain the most
enlightened and correct views."]

In speaking of the foolish charge of avarice brought against Lord
Byron by some who resented thus his not suffering them to impose on
his generosity, Colonel Napier says, "I never knew a single instance
of it while he was here. I saw only a judicious generosity in all
that he did. He would not allow himself to be _robbed_, but he gave
profusely where he thought he was doing good. It was, indeed, because
he would not allow himself to be _fleeced_, that he was called stingy
by those who are always bent upon giving money from any purses but
their own. Lord Byron had no idea of this; and would turn sharply and
unexpectedly on those who thought their game sure. He gave a vast
deal of money to the Greeks in various ways."

Among the objects of his bounty in this way were many poor refugee
Greeks from the Continent and the Isles. He not only relieved their
present distresses, but allotted a certain sum monthly to the most
destitute. "A list of these poor pensioners," says Dr. Kennedy, "was
given me by the nephew of Professor Bambas."

One of the instances mentioned of his humanity while at Cephalonia
will show how prompt he was at the call of that feeling, and how
unworthy, sometimes, were the objects of it. A party of workmen
employed upon one of those fine roads projected by Colonel Napier
having imprudently excavated a high bank, the earth fell in, and
overwhelmed nearly a dozen persons; the news of which accident
instantly reaching Metaxata, Lord Byron despatched his physician
Bruno to the spot, and followed with Count Gamba, as soon as their
horses could be saddled. They found a crowd of women and children
wailing round the ruins; while the workmen, who had just dug out
three or four of their maimed companions, stood resting themselves
unconcernedly, as if nothing more was required of them; and to Lord
Byron's enquiry whether there were not still some other persons below
the earth, answered coolly that "they did not know, but believed that
there were." Enraged at this brutal indifference, he sprang from his
horse, and seizing a spade himself, began to dig with all his
strength; but it was not till after being threatened with the
horsewhip that any of the peasants could be brought to follow his
example. "I was not present at this scene myself," says Colonel
Napier, in the Notices with which he has favoured me, "but was told
that Lord Byron's attention seemed quite absorbed in the study of the
faces and gesticulations of those whose friends were missing. The
sorrow of the Greeks is, in appearance, very frantic, and they shriek
and howl, as in Ireland.

It was in alluding to the above incident that the noble poet is
stated to have said that he had come out to the Islands prejudiced
against Sir T. Maitland's government of the Greeks: "but," he added,
"I have now changed my opinion. They are such barbarians, that if I
had the government of them, I would pave these very roads with them."

While residing at Metaxata, he received an account of the illness of
his daughter Ada, which "made him anxious and melancholy (says Count
Gamba) for several days." Her indisposition he understood to have
been caused by a determination of blood to the head; and on his
remarking to Dr. Kennedy, as curious, that it was a complaint to
which he himself was subject, the physician replied, that he should
have been inclined to infer so, not only from his habits of intense
and irregular study, but from the present state of his eyes,--the
right eye appearing to be inflamed. I have mentioned this latter
circumstance as perhaps justifying the inference that there was in
Lord Byron's state of health at this moment a predisposition to the
complaint of which he afterwards died. To Dr. Kennedy he spoke
frequently of his wife and daughter, expressing the Strongest
affection for the latter, and respect towards the former, and while
declaring as usual his perfect ignorance of the causes of the
separation, professing himself fully disposed to welcome any prospect
of reconcilement.

The anxiety with which, at all periods of his life, but particularly
at the present, he sought to repel the notion that, except when under
the actual inspiration of writing, he was at all influenced by
poetical associations, very frequently displayed itself. "You must
have been highly gratified (said a gentleman to him) by the classical
remains and recollections which you met with in your visit to
Ithaca."--"You quite mistake me," answered Lord Byron--"I have no
poetical humbug about me; I am too old for that. Ideas of that sort
are confined to rhyme."

For the two days during which he was delayed by contrary winds, he
took up his abode at the house of Mr. Hancock, his banker, and passed
the greater part of the time in company with the English authorities
of the Island. At length the wind becoming fair, he prepared to
embark. "I called upon him to take leave," says Dr. Kennedy, "and
found him alone, reading Quentin Durward. He was, as usual, in good
spirits." In a few hours after the party set sail,--Lord Byron
himself on board the Mistico, and Count Gamba, with the horses and
heavy baggage, in the larger vessel, or Bombarda. After touching at
Zante, for the purpose of some pecuniary arrangements with Mr. Barff,
and taking on board a considerable sum of money in specie, they, on
the evening of the 29th, proceeded towards Missolonghi. Their last
accounts from that place having represented the Turkish fleet as
still in the Gulf of Lepanto, there appeared not the slightest
grounds for apprehending any interruption in their passage. Besides,
knowing that the Greek squadron was now at anchorage near the
entrance of the Gulf, they had little doubt of soon falling in with
some friendly vessel, either in search, or waiting for them.

"We sailed together," says Count Gamba, in a highly picturesque and
affecting passage, "till after ten at night; the wind favourable--a
clear sky, the air fresh but not sharp. Our sailors sang alternately
patriotic songs, monotonous indeed, but to persons in our situation
extremely touching, and we took part in them. We were all, but Lord
Byron particularly, in excellent spirits. The Mistico sailed the
fastest. When the waves divided us, and our voices could no longer
reach each other, we made signals by firing pistols and
carabines--'To-morrow we meet at Missolonghi--to-morrow.' Thus, full
of confidence and spirits, we sailed along. At twelve we were out of
sight of each other."

In waiting for the other vessel, having more than once shortened sail
for that purpose, the party on board the Mistico were upon the point
of being surprised into an encounter which might, in a moment, have
changed the future fortunes of Lord Byron. Two or three hours before
daybreak, while steering towards Missolonghi, they found themselves
close under the stern of a large vessel, which they at first took to
be Greek, but which, when within pistol shot, they discovered to be a
Turkish frigate. By good fortune, they were themselves, as it
appears, mistaken for a Greek brulot by the Turks, who therefore
feared to fire, but with loud shouts frequently hailed them, while
those on board Lord Byron's vessel maintained the most profound
silence; and even the dogs (as I have heard his Lordship's valet
mention), though they had never ceased to bark during the whole of
the night, did not utter, while within reach of the Turkish frigate,
a sound;--a no less lucky than a curious accident, as, from the
information the Turks had received of all the particulars of his
Lordship's departure from Zante, the harking of the dogs, at that
moment, would have been almost certain to betray him. Under the
favour of these circumstances, and the darkness, they were enabled to
bear away without further molestation, and took shelter among the
Scrofes, a cluster of rocks but a few hours' sail from Missolonghi.
From this place the following letter, remarkable, considering his
situation at the moment, for the light, careless tone that pervades
it, was despatched to Colonel Stanhope.


LETTER 534.

TO THE HONOURABLE COLONEL STANHOPE.

"Scrofer (or some such name), on board a
Cephaloniote Mistico, Dec. 31. 1823.

"My dear Stanhope,

"We are just arrived here, that is, part of my people and I, with
some things, &c., and which it may be as well not to specify in a
letter (which has a risk of being intercepted, perhaps);--but Gamba,
and my horses, negro, steward, and the press, and all the Committee
things, also some eight thousand dollars of mine, (but never mind, we
have more left, do you understand?) are taken by the Turkish
frigates, and my party and myself, in another boat, have had a narrow
escape last night, (being close under their stern and hailed, but we
would not answer, and bore away,) as well as this morning. Here we
are, with the sun and clearing weather, within a pretty little port
enough; but whether our Turkish friends may not send in their boats
and take us out (for we have no arms except two carbines and some
pistols, and, I suspect, not more than four fighting people on
board,) is another question, especially if we remain long here, since
we are blocked out of Missolonghi by the direct entrance.

"You had better send my friend George Drake (Draco), and a body of
Suliotes, to escort us by land or by the canals, with all convenient
speed. Gamba and our Bombard are taken into Patras, I suppose; and we
must take a turn at the Turks to get them out: but where the devil is
the fleet gone?--the Greek, I mean; leaving us to get in without the
least intimation to take heed that the Moslems were out again.

"Make my respects to Mavrocordato, and say that I am here at his
disposal. I am uneasy at being here: not so much on my own account as
on that of a Greek boy with me, for you know what his fate would be;
and I would sooner cut him in pieces, and myself too, than have him
taken out by those barbarians. We are all very well. N. B.

"The Bombard was twelve miles out when taken; at least, so it
appeared to us (if taken she actually be, for it is not certain); and
we had to escape from another vessel that stood right between us and
the port."

Finding that his position among the rocks of the Scrofes would be
untenable in the event of an attack by armed boats, he thought it
right to venture out again, and making all sail, got safe to
Dragomestri, a small sea-port town on the coast of Acarnania; from
whence the annexed letters to two of the most valued of his
Cephalonian friends were written.


LETTER 535. TO MR. MUIR.

"Dragomestri, January 2. 1824.

"My dear Muir,

"I wish you many returns of the season, and happiness therewithal.
Gamba and the Bombard (there is a strong reason to believe) are
carried into Patras by a Turkish frigate, which we saw chase them at
dawn on the 31st: we had been close under the stern in the night,
believing her a Greek till within pistol shot, and only escaped by a
miracle of all the Saints (our captain says), and truly I am of his
opinion, for we should never have got away of ourselves. They were
signalising their consort with lights, and had illuminated the ship
between decks, and were shouting like a mob;--but then why did they
not fire? Perhaps they took us for a Greek brulot, and were afraid of
kindling us--they had no colours flying even at dawn nor after.

"At daybreak my boat was on the coast, but the wind unfavourable for
_the port_;--a large vessel with the wind in her favour standing
between us and the Gulf, and another in chase of the Bombard about
twelve miles off, or so. Soon after they stood (_i.e._ the Bombard
and frigate) apparently towards Patras, and a Zantiote boat making
signals to us from the shore to get away. Away we went before the
wind, and ran into a creek called Scrofes, I believe, where I landed
Luke[1] and another (as Luke's life was in most danger), with some
money for themselves, and a letter for Stanhope, and sent them up the
country to Missolonghi, where they would be in safety, as the place
where we were could be assailed by armed boats in a moment, and Gamba
had all our arms except two carbines, a fowling-piece, and some
pistols.

[Footnote 1: A Greek youth whom he had brought with him, in his
suite, from Cephalonia.]

"In less than an hour the vessel in chase neared us, and we dashed
out again, and showing our stern (our boat sails very well), got in
before night to Dragomestri, where we now are. But where is the Greek
fleet? I don't know--do you? I told our master of the boat that I was
inclined to think the two large vessels (there were none else in
sight) Greeks. But he answered, 'They are too large--why don't they
show their colours?' and his account was confirmed, be it true or
false, by several boats which we met or passed, as we could not at
any rate have got in with that wind without beating about for a long
time; and as there was much property, and some lives to risk (the
boy's especially) without any means of defence, it was necessary to
let our boatmen have their own way.

"I despatched yesterday another messenger to Missolonghi for an
escort, but we have yet no answer. We are here (those of my boat) for
the fifth day without taking our clothes off, and sleeping on deck in
all weathers, but are all very well, and in good spirits. It is to be
supposed that the Government will send, for their own sakes, an
escort, as I have 16,000 dollars on board, the greater part for their
service. I had (besides personal property to the amount of about 5000
more) 8000 dollars in specie of my own, without reckoning the
Committee's stores, so that the Turks will have a good thing of it,
if the prize be good.

"I regret the detention of Gamba, &c., but the rest we can make up
again; so tell Hancock to set my bills into cash as soon as possible,
and Corgialegno to prepare the remainder of my credit with Messrs.
Webb to be turned into monies. I shall remain here, unless something
extraordinary occurs, till Mavrocordato sends, and then go on, and
act according to circumstances. My respects to the two colonels, and
remembrances to all friends. Tell '_Ultima Anahse_'[1] that his
friend Raidi did not make his appearance with the brig, though I
think that he might as well have spoken with us _in_ or _off_ Zante,
to give us a gentle hint of what we had to expect.

[Footnote 1: Count Delladecima, to whom he gives this name in
consequence of a habit which that gentleman had of using the phrase
"in ultima analise" frequently in conversation.]

"Yours, ever affectionately, N. B.

"P.S. Excuse my scrawl on account of the pen and the frosty morning
at daybreak. I write in haste, a boat starting for Kalamo. I do not
know whether the detention of the Bombard (if she be detained, for I
cannot swear to it, and I can only judge from appearances, and what
all these fellows say,) be an affair of the Government, and
neutrality, and &c.--but _she was stopped at least_ twelve miles
distant from any port, and had all her papers regular from _Zante _
for _Kalamo_ and _we also_. I did not land at Zante, being anxious to
lose as little time as possible, but Sir F. S. came off to invite me,
&c. and every body was as kind as could be, even in Cephalonia."


LETTER 536. TO MR. C. HANCOCK.

"Dragomestri, January 2. 1824.

"Dear Sir 'Ancock[1],'

[Footnote 1: This letter is, more properly, a postscript to one which
Dr. Bruno had, by his orders, written to Mr. Hancock, with some
particulars of their voyage; and the Doctor having begun his letter,
"Pregiat'mo. Sig'r. Ancock," Lord Byron thus parodies his mode of
address.]

"Remember me to Dr. Muir and every body else. I have still the 16,000
dollars with me, the rest were on board the Bombarda. Here we
are--the Bombarda taken, or at least missing, with all the Committee
stores, my friend Gamba, the horses, negro, bull-dog, steward, and
domestics, with all our implements of peace and war, also 8000
dollars; but whether she will be lawful prize or no, is for the
decision of the Governor of the Seven Islands. I have written to Dr.
Muir, by way of Kalamo, with all particulars. We are in good
condition; and what with wind and weather, and being hunted or so,
little sleeping on deck, &c. are in tolerable seasoning for the
country and circumstances. But I foresee that we shall have occasion
for all the cash I can muster at Zante and elsewhere. Mr. Barff gave
us 8000 and odd dollars; so there is still a balance in my favour. We
are not quite certain that the vessels were Turkish which chased; but
there is strong presumption that they were, and no news to the
contrary. At Zante, every body, from the Resident downwards, were as
kind as could be, especially your worthy and courteous partner.

"Tell our friends to keep up their spirits, and we may yet do well. I
disembarked the boy and another Greek, who were in most terrible
alarm--the boy, at least, from the Morea--on shore near Anatoliko, I
believe, which put them in safety; and, as for me and mine, we must
stick by our goods.

"I hope that Gamba's detention will only be temporary. As for the
effects and monies, if we have them,--well; if otherwise, patience. I
wish you a happy new year, and all our friends the same.

"Yours," &c.

During these adventures of Lord Byron, Count Gamba, having been
brought to by the Turkish frigate, had been carried, with his
valuable charge, into Patras, where the Commander of the Turkish
fleet was stationed. Here, after an interview with the Pacha, by whom
he was treated, during his detention, most courteously, he had the
good fortune to procure the release of his vessel and freight; and,
on the 4th of January, reached Missolonghi. To his surprise, however,
he found that Lord Byron had not yet arrived; for,--as if everything
connected with this short voyage were doomed to deepen whatever ill
bodings there were already in his mind,--on his Lordship's departure
from Dragomestri, a violent gale of wind had come on; his vessel was
twice driven on the rocks in the passage of the Scrofes, and, from
the force of the wind, and the captain's ignorance of those shoals,
the danger was by all on board considered to be most serious. "On the
second time of striking," says Count Gamba, "the sailors, losing all
hope of saving the vessel, began to think of their own safety. But
Lord Byron persuaded them to remain; and by his firmness, and no
small share of nautical skill, got them out of danger, and thus saved
the vessel and several lives, with 25,000 dollars, the greater part
in specie."

The wind still blowing right against their course to Missolonghi,
they again anchored between two of the numerous islets by which this
part of the coast is lined; and here Lord Byron, as well for
refreshment as ablution, found himself tempted into an indulgence
which, it is not improbable, may have had some share in producing the
fatal illness that followed. Having put off in a boat to a small rock
at some distance, he sent back a messenger for the nankeen trowsers
which he usually wore in bathing; and, though the sea was rough and
the night cold, it being then the 3d of January, swam back to the
vessel. "I am fully persuaded," says his valet, in relating this
imprudent freak, "that it injured my Lord's health. He certainly was
not taken ill at the time, but in the course of two or three days his
Lordship complained of a pain in all his bones, which continued, more
or less, to the time of his death."

Setting sail again next morning with the hope of reaching Missolonghi
before sunset, they were still baffled by adverse winds, and,
arriving late at night in the port, did not land till the morning of
the 5th.

The solicitude, in the mean time, of all at Missolonghi, knowing that
the Turkish fleet was out, and Lord Byron on his way, may without
difficulty be conceived, and is most livelily depicted in a letter
written during the suspense of that moment, by an eye-witness. "The
Turkish fleet," says Colonel Stanhope, "has ventured out, and is, at
this moment, blockading the port. Beyond these again are seen the
Greek ships, and among the rest the one that was sent for Lord Byron.
Whether he is on board or not is a question. You will allow that this
is an eventful day." Towards the end of the letter, he adds, "Lord
Byron's servants have just arrived; he himself will be here
to-morrow. If he had not come, we had need have prayed for fair
weather; for both fleet and army are hungry and inactive. Parry has
not appeared. Should he also arrive to-morrow, all Missolonghi will
go mad with pleasure."

The reception their noble visiter experienced on his arrival was such
as, from the ardent eagerness with which he had been looked for,
might be expected. The whole population of the place crowded to the
shore to welcome him: the ships anchored off the fortress fired a
salute as he passed; and all the troops and dignitaries of the place,
civil and military, with the Prince Mavrocordato at their head, met
him on his landing, and accompanied him, amidst the mingled din of
shouts, wild music, and discharges of artillery, to the house that
had been prepared for him. "I cannot easily describe," says Count
Gamba, "the emotions which such a scene excited. I could scarcely
refrain from tears."

After eight days of fatigue such as Lord Byron had endured, some
short interval of rest might fairly have been desired by him. But the
scene on which he had now entered was one that precluded all thoughts
of repose. He on whom the eyes and hopes of all others were centred,
could but little dream of indulging any care for himself. There were,
at this particular moment, too, collected within the precincts of
that town as great an abundance of the materials of unquiet and
misrule as had been ever brought together in so small a space. In
every quarter; both public and private, disorganisation and
dissatisfaction presented themselves. Of the fourteen brigs of war
which had come to the succour of Missolonghi, and which had for some
time actually protected it against a Turkish fleet double its number,
nine had already, hopeless of pay, returned to Hydra, while the
sailors of the remaining five, from the same cause of complaint, had
just quitted their ships, and were murmuring idly on shore. The
inhabitants, seeing themselves thus deserted or preyed upon by their
defenders, with a scarcity of provisions threatening them, and the
Turkish fleet before their eyes, were no less ready to break forth
into riot and revolt; while, at the same moment, to complete the
confusion, a General Assembly was on the point of being held in the
town, for the purpose of organising the forces of Western Greece, and
to this meeting all the wild mountain chiefs of the province, ripe,
of course, for dissension, were now flocking with their followers.
Mavrocordato himself, the President of the intended Congress, had
brought in his train no less than 5000 armed men, who were at this
moment in the town. Ill provided, too, with either pay or food by the
Government, this large military mob were but little less discontented
and destitute than the sailors; and in short, in every direction, the
entire population seems to have presented such a fermenting mass of
insubordination and discord as was far more likely to produce warfare
among themselves than with the enemy.

Such was the state of affairs when Lord Byron arrived at
Missolonghi;--such the evils he had now to encounter, with the
formidable consciousness that to him, and him alone, all looked for
the removal of them.

Of his proceedings during the first weeks after his arrival, the
following letters to Mr. Hancock (which by the great kindness of that
gentleman I am enabled to give) will, assisted by a few explanatory
notes, supply a sufficiently ample account.


LETTER 537. TO MR. CHARLES HANCOCK.

"Missolonghi, January 13. 1824.

"Dear Sir,

"Many thanks for yours of the fifth; ditto to Muir for his. You will
have heard that Gamba and my vessel got out of the hands of the Turks
safe and intact; nobody knows well how or why, for there's a mystery
in the story somewhat melodramatic. Captain Valsamachi has, I take
it, spun a long yarn by this time in Argostoli. I attribute their
release entirely to Saint Dionisio, of Zante, and the Madonna of the
Rock, near Cephalonia.

"The adventures of my separate luck were also not finished at
Dragomestri; we were conveyed out by some Greek gun-boats, and found
the Leonidas brig-of-war at sea to look after us. But blowing weather
coming on, we were driven on the rocks _twice_ in the passage of the
Scrofes, and the dollars had another narrow escape. Two thirds of the
crew got ashore over the bowsprit: the rocks were rugged enough, but
water very deep close in shore, so that she was, after much swearing
and some exertion, got off again, and away we went with a third of
our crew, leaving the rest on a desolate island, where they might
have been now, had not one of the gun-boats taken them off, for we
were in no condition to take them off again.

"Tell Muir that Dr. Bruno did not show much fight on the occasion;
for besides stripping to his flannel waistcoat, and running about
like a rat in an emergency, when I was talking to a Greek boy (the
brother of the Greek girls in Argostoli), and telling him of the fact
that there was no danger for the passengers, whatever there might be
for the vessel, and assuring him that I could save both him and
myself without difficulty[1] (though he can't swim), as the water,
though deep, was not very rough,--the wind _not_ blowing _right_ on
shore (it was a blunder of the Greeks who missed stays),--the Doctor
exclaimed, 'Save _him_, indeed! by G--d! save _me_ rather--I'll be
first if I can'--a piece of egotism which he pronounced with such
emphatic simplicity as to set all who had leisure to hear him
laughing[2], and in a minute after the vessel drove off again after
striking twice. She sprung a small leak, but nothing further
happened, except that the captain was very nervous afterwards.

[Footnote 1: He meant to have taken the boy on his shoulders and swum
with him to shore. This feat would have been but a repetition of one
of his early sports at Harrow; where it was a frequent practice of
his thus to mount one of the smaller boys on his shoulders, and, much
to the alarm of the urchin, dive with him into the water.]

[Footnote 2: In the Doctor's own account this scene is described, as
might be expected, somewhat differently:--"Ma nel di lui passaggio
marittimo una fregata Turca insegui la di lui nave, obligandola di
ricoverarsi dentro le _Scrofes_, dove per l'impeto dei venti fù
gettata sopra i scogli: tutti i marinari dell' equipaggio saltarono a
terra per salvare la loro vita: Milord solo col di lui Medico Dottr.
Bruno rimasero sulla nave che ognuno vedeva colare a fondo: ma dopo
qualche tempo non essendosi visto che ciò avveniva, le persone
fuggite a terra respinsero la nave nell' acque: ma il tempestoso mare
la ribastò una seconda volta contro i scogli, ed allora si aveva per
certo che la nave coll' illustre personaggio, una grande quantità di
denari, e molti preziosi effetti per i Greci anderebbero a fondo.
Tuttavia Lord Byron non si perturbò per nulla; anzi disse al di lui
medico che voleva gettarsi al nuoto onde raggiungere la spiaggia:
'Non abbandonate la nave finchè abbiamo forze per direggerla:
allorchè saremo coperti dall' acque, allora gettatevi pure, che io vi
salvo.'"]

"To be brief, we had bad weather almost always, though not contrary;
slept on deck in the wet generally for seven or eight nights, but
never was in better health (I speak personally)--so much so that I
actually bathed for a quarter of an hour on the evening of the 4th
instant in the sea, (to kill the fleas, and other &c.) and was all
the better for it.

"We were received at Missolonghi with all kinds of kindness and
honours; and the sight of the fleet saluting, &c. and the crowds and
different costumes, was really picturesque. We think of undertaking
an expedition soon, and I expect to be ordered with the Suliotes to
join the army.

"All well at present. We found Gamba already arrived, and every thing
in good condition. Remember me to all friends.

"Yours ever, N. B.

"P.S. You will, I hope, use every exertion to realise the _assets_.
For besides what I have already advanced, I have undertaken to
maintain the Suliotes for a year, (and will accompany them either as
a Chief, or whichever is most agreeable to the Government,) besides
sundries. I do not understand Brown's '_letters of credit_.' I
neither gave nor ordered a letter of credit that I know of; and
though of course, if you have done it, I will be responsible, I was
not aware of any thing, except that I would have backed his bills,
which you said was unnecessary. As to _orders_--I ordered nothing but
some _red cloth_ and _oil cloths_, both of which I am ready to
receive; but if Gamba has exceeded my commission, _the other things
must be sent back, for I cannot permit any thing of the kind, nor
will_. The servants' journey will of course be paid for, though
_that_ is exorbitant. As for Brown's letter, I do not know any thing
more than I have said, and I really cannot defray the charges of half
Greece and the Frank adventurers besides. Mr. Barff must send us some
dollars soon, for the expenses fall on me for the present.

"January 14. 1824.

"P.S. Will you tell Saint (Jew) Geronimo Corgialegno that I mean to
draw for the balance of my credit with Messrs. Webb and Co. I shall
draw for two thousand dollars (that being about the amount, more or
less); but, to facilitate the business, I shall make the draft
payable also at Messrs. Ransom and Co., Pall-Mall East, London. I
believe I already showed you my letters, (but if not, I have them to
show,) by which, besides the credits now realising, you will have
perceived that I am not limited to any particular amount of credit
with my bankers. The Honourable Douglas, my friend and trustee, is a
principal partner in that house, and having the direction of my
affairs, is aware to what extent my present resources may go, and the
letters in question were from him. I can merely say, that within the
_current_ year, 1824, besides the money already advanced to the Greek
Government, and the credits now in your hands and your partner's (Mr.
Barff), which are all from the income of 1823, I have anticipated
nothing from that of the present year hitherto. I shall or ought to
have at my disposition upwards of one hundred thousand dollars,
(including my income, and the purchase-monies of a manor lately
sold,) and perhaps more, without infringing on my income for 1825,
and not including the remaining balance of 1823.

Yours ever, N. B."


LETTER 538. TO MR. CHARLES HANCOCK.

"Missolonghi, January 17, 1824.

"I have answered, at some length, your obliging letter, and trust
that you have received my reply by means of Mr. Tindal. I will also
thank you to remind Mr. Tindal that I would thank him to furnish you,
on my account, with _an order of the Committee_ for one hundred
dollars, which I advanced to him on their account through Signor
Corgialegno's agency at Zante on his arrival in October, as it is but
fair that the said Committee should pay their own expenses. An order
will be sufficient, as the money might be inconvenient for Mr. T. at
present to disburse.

"I have also advanced to Mr. Blackett the sum of fifty dollars,-which
I will thank Mr. Stevens to pay to you, on my account, from monies of
Mr. Blackett now in his hands. I have Mr. B.'s acknowledgment in
writing.

"As the wants of the State here are still pressing, and there seems
very little specie stirring except mine, I will stand paymaster; and
must again request you and Mr. Barff to forward by a _safe _ channel
(if possible) all the dollars you can collect upon the bills now
negotiating. I have also written to Corgialegno for two thousand
dollars, being about the balance of my separate letter from Messrs.
Webb and Co., making the bills also payable at Ransom's in London.

"Things are going on better, if not well; there is some order, and

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