by Lord Byron
It is, however, not easy to give a correct view of the state of affairs at that epoch in Missolonghi. All parties seem to have been deplorably incompetent to understand the circumstances in which they were placed; — the condition of the Greeks, and that their exigencies required only physical and military means. They talked of newspapers and types, and libels, as if the moral instruments of civil exhortation were adequate to wrench the independence of Greece from the bloody grasp of the Ottoman. No wonder that Byron, accustomed to the management only of his own fancies, was fluttered amid the conflicts of such riot and controversy.
His situation at this period was indeed calculated to inspire pity. Had he survived, it might, instead of awakening the derision of history, have supplied to himself materials for another canto of Don Juan. I shall select one instance of his afflictions.
The captain of a British gun-brig came to Missolonghi to demand an equivalent for an Ionian boat, which had been taken in the act of going out of the Gulf of Lepanto, with provisions and arms. The Greek fleet at that time blockading the port consisted of five brigs, and the Turks had fourteen vessels of war in the gulf. The captain maintained that the British Government recognised no blockade which was not efficient, and that the efficiency depended on the numerical superiority of cannon. On this principle he demanded restitution of the property. Mavrocordato offered to submit the case to the decision of the British Government, but the captain would only give him four hours to consider. The indemnification was granted.
Lord Byron conducted the business in behalf of the captain. In the evening, conversing with Stanhope on the subject, the colonel said the affair was conducted in a bullying manner. His Lordship started into a passion and contended that law, justice, and equity had nothing to do with politics. “That may be,” replied Stanhope, “but I will never lend myself to injustice.”
His Lordship then began to attack Jeremy Bentham. The colonel complained of such illiberality, as to make personal attacks on that gentleman before a friend who held him in high estimation.
“I only attack his public principles,” replied Byron, “which are mere theories, but dangerous, — injurious to Spain, and calculated to do great mischief in Greece.”
Stanhope vindicated Bentham, and said, “He possesses a truly British heart; but your Lordship, after professing liberal principles from boyhood, have, when called upon to act, proved yourself a Turk.”
“What proofs have you of this?
“Your conduct in endeavouring to crush the press by declaiming against it to Mavrocordato, and your general abuse of liberal principles.”
“If I had held up my finger,” retorted his Lordship, “I could have crushed the press.”
“With all this power,” said Stanhope, “which by the way you never possessed, you went to the prince, and poisoned his ear.”
Lord Byron then disclaimed against the liberals. “What liberals?” cried Stanhope. “Did you borrow your notions of freemen from the Italians?”
“No: from the Hunts, Cartwrights, and such.”
“And yet your Lordship presented Cartwright’s Reform Bill, and aided Hunt by praising his poetry and giving him the sale of your works.”
“You are worse than Wilson,” exclaimed Byron, “and should quit the army.”
“I am a mere soldier,” replied Stanhope, “but never will I abandon my principles. Our principles are diametrically opposite, so let us avoid the subject. If Lord Byron acts up to his professions, he will be the greatest, if not, the meanest of mankind.”
“My character,” said his Lordship, “I hope, does not depend on your assertions.”
“No: your genius has immortalized you. The worst will not deprive you of fame.”
Lord Byron then rejoined, “Well; you shall see: judge of me by my acts.” And, bidding the colonel good night, who took up the light to conduct him to the passage, he added, “What! hold up a light to a Turk!”
Such were the Franklins, the Washingtons, and the Hamiltons who undertook the regeneration of Greece.
CHAPTER XLVI
Lord Byron appointed to the command of three thousand Men to besiege Lepanto — The Siege abandoned for a Blockade — Advanced Guard ordered to proceed — Lord Byron’s first Illness — A Riot — He is urged to leave Greece — The Expedition against Lepanto abandoned — Byron dejected — A wild diplomatic Scheme
Three days after the conversation related in the preceding chapter, Byron was officially placed in the command of about three thousand men, destined for the attack on Lepanto; but the Suliotes remained refractory, and refused to quit their quarters; his Lordship, however, employed an argument which proved effectual. He told them that if they did not obey his commands, he would discharge them from his service.
But the impediments were not to be surmounted; in less than a week it was formally reported to Byron that Missolonghi could not furnish the means of undertaking the siege of Lepanto, upon which his Lordship proposed that Lepanto should be only blockaded by two thousand men. Before any actual step was, however, taken, two spies came in with a report that the Albanians in garrison at Lepanto had seized the citadel, and were determined to surrender it to his Lordship. Still the expedition lingered; at last, on the 14th of February, six weeks after Byron’s arrival at Missolonghi, it was determined that an advanced guard of three hundred soldiers, under the command of Count Gamba, should march for Lepanto, and that Lord Byron, with the main body, should follow. The Suliotes were, however, still exorbitant, calling for fresh contributions for themselves and their families. His troubles were increasing, and every new rush of the angry tide rose nearer and nearer his heart; still his fortitude enabled him to preserve an outward show of equanimity. But, on the very day after the determination had been adopted, to send forward the advanced guard, his constitution gave way.
He was sitting in Colonel Stanhope’s room, talking jestingly, according to his wonted manner, with Captain Parry, when his eyes and forehead occasionally discovered that he was agitated by strong feelings. On a sudden he complained of a weakness in one of his legs; he rose, but finding himself unable to walk, called for assistance; he then fell into a violent nervous convulsion, and was placed upon a bed: while the fit lasted, his face was hideously distorted; but in the course of a few minutes the convulsion ceased, and he began to recover his senses: his speech returned, and he soon rose, apparently well. During the struggle his strength was preternaturally augmented, and when it was over, he behaved with his usual firmness. “I conceive,” says Colonel Stanhope, “that this fit was occasioned by over-excitement. The mind of Byron is like a volcano; it is full of fire, wrath, and combustibles, and when this matter comes to be strongly agitated, the explosion is dreadful. With respect to the causes which produced the excess of feeling, they are beyond my reach, except one great cause, the provoking conduct of the Suliotes.”
A few days after this distressing incident, a new occurrence arose, which materially disturbed the tranquillity of Byron. A Suliote, accompanied by the son, a little boy, of Marco Botzaris, with another man, walked into the Seraglio, a kind of citadel, which had been used as a barrack for the Suliotes, and out of which they had been ejected with difficulty, when it was required for the reception of stores and the establishment of a laboratory. The sentinel ordered them back, but the Suliote advanced. The sergeant of the guard, a German, pushed him back. The Suliote struck the sergeant; they closed and struggled. The Suliote drew his pistol; the German wrenched it from him, and emptied the pan. At this moment a Swedish adventurer, Captain Sass, seeing the quarrel, ordered the Suliote to be taken to the guard-room. The Suliote would have departed, but the German still held him. The Swede drew his sabre; the Suliote his other pistol. The Swede struck him with the flat of his sword; the Suliote unsheathed his ataghan, and nearly cut off the left arm of his antagonist, and then shot him through the head. The other Suliotes would not deliver up their comrade, for he was celebrated among them for distinguished bravery. The workm
en in the laboratory refused to work: they required to be sent home to England, declaring, they had come out to labour peaceably, and not to be exposed to assassination. These untoward occurrences deeply vexed Byron, and there was no mind of sufficient energy with him to control the increasing disorders. But, though convinced, as indeed he had been persuaded from the beginning in his own mind, that he could not render any assistance to the cause beyond mitigating the ferocious spirit in which the war was conducted, his pride and honour would not allow him to quit Greece.
In a letter written soon after his first attack, he says, “I am a good deal better, though of course weakly. The leeches took too much blood from my temples the day after, and there was some difficulty in stopping it; but I have been up daily, and out in boats or on horseback. To-day I have taken a warm bath, and live as temperately as can well be, without any liquid but water, and without any animal food”; then adverting to the turbulences of the Suliotes, he adds, “but I still hope better things, and will stand by the cause as long as my health and circumstances will permit me to be supposed useful.” Subsequently, when pressed to leave the marshy and deleterious air of Missolonghi, he replied, still more forcibly, “I cannot quit Greece while there is a chance of my being of (even supposed) utility. There is a stake worth millions such as I am, and while I can stand at all I must stand by the cause. While I say this, I am aware of the difficulties, and dissensions, and defects of the Greeks themselves; but allowance must be made for them by all reasonable people.”
After this attack of epilepsy Lord Byron because disinclined to pursue his scheme against Lepanto. Indeed, it may be said that in his circumstances it was impracticable; for although the Suliotes repented of their insubordination, they yet had an objection to the service, and said “they would not fight against stone walls.” All thought of the expedition was in consequence abandoned, and the destinies of poor Byron were hastening to their consummation. He began to complain!
In speaking to Parry one day of the Greek Committee in London, he said, “I have been grossly ill-treated by the Committee. In Italy Mr Blaquiere, their agent, informed me that every requisite supply would be forwarded with all despatch. I was disposed to come to Greece, but I hastened my departure in consequence of earnest solicitations. No time was to be lost, I was told, and Mr Blaquiere, instead of waiting on me at his return from Greece, left a paltry note, which gave me no information whatever. If ever I meet with him, I shall not fail to mention my surprise at his conduct; but it has been all of a piece. I wish the acting Committee had had some of the trouble which has fallen on me since my arrival here: they would have been more prompt in their proceedings, and would have known better what the country stood in need of. They would not have delayed the supplies a day nor have sent out German officers, poor fellows, to starve at Missolonghi, but for my assistance. I am a plain man, and cannot comprehend the use of printing-presses to a people who do not read. Here the Committee have sent supplies of maps. I suppose that I may teach the young mountaineers geography. Here are bugle-horns without bugle-men, and it is a chance if we can find anybody in Greece to blow them. Books are sent to people who want guns; they ask for swords, and the Committee give them the lever of a printing-press.
“My future intentions,” continued his Lordship, “as to Greece, may be explained in a few words. I will remain here until she is secure against the Turks, or till she has fallen under their power. All my income shall be spent in her service; but, unless driven by some great necessity, I will not touch a farthing of the sum intended for my sister’s children. Whatever I can accomplish with my income, and my personal exertions, shall be cheerfully done. When Greece is secure against external enemies, I will leave the Greeks to settle their government as they like. One service more, and an eminent service it will be, I think I may perform for them. You, Parry, shall have a schooner built for me, or I will buy a vessel; the Greeks shall invest me with the character of their ambassador, or agent: I will go to the United States, and procure that free and enlightened government to set the example of recognising the federation of Greece as an independent state. This done, England must follow the example, and then the fate of Greece will be permanently fixed, and she will enter into all her rights as a member of the great commonwealth of Christian Europe.”
This intention will, to all who have ever looked at the effects of fortune on individuals, sufficiently show that Byron’s part in the world was nearly done. Had he lived, and recovered health, it might have proved that he was then only in another lunation: his first was when he passed from poesy to heroism. But as it was, it has only served to show that his mind had suffered by the decadency of his circumstances, and how much the idea of self-exaltation weakly entered into all his plans. The business was secondary to the style in which it should be performed. Building a vessel! why think of the conveyance at all? as if the means of going to America were so scarce that there might be difficulty in finding them. But his mind was passing from him. The intention was unsound — a fantasy — a dream of bravery in old age — begotten of the erroneous supposition that the cabinets of Christendom would remain unconcerned spectators of the triumph of the Greeks, or even of any very long procrastination of their struggle.
CHAPTER XLVII
The last Illness and Death of Lord Byron — His last Poem
Although in common parlance it may be said, that after the attack of epilepsy Lord Byron’s general health did not appear to have been essentially impaired, the appearance was fallacious; his constitution had received a vital shock, and the exciting causes, vexation and confusion, continued to exasperate his irritation.
On the 1st of March he complained of frequent vertigoes, which made him feel as though he were intoxicated; but no effectual means were taken to remove these portentous symptoms; and he regularly enjoyed his daily exercise, sometimes in boats, but oftener on horseback. His physician thought him convalescent; his mind, however, was in constant excitement; it rested not even during sleep.
On the 9th of April, while sailing, he was overtaken by the rain, and got very wet: on his return home, he changed the whole of his dress; but he had been too long in his wet clothes, and the stamina of his constitution being shaken could not withstand the effects. In little more than two hours he was seized with rigors, fever, and rheumatic pains. During the night, however, he slept in his accustomed manner, but in the morning he complained of pains and headache; still this did not prevent him from going out on horseback in the afternoon — it was for the last time.
On returning home, he observed to one of the servants that the saddle was not perfectly dry, from having been so wet the day before, and that he thought it had made him worse. He soon after became affected with almost constant shivering; sudorific medicines were administered, and blood-letting proposed; but though he took the drugs, he objected to the bleeding. Another physician was in consequence called in to see if the rheumatic fever could be appeased without the loss of blood. This doctor approved of the medicines prescribed, and was not opposed to the opinion that bleeding was necessary, but said it might be deferred till the next day.
On the 11th he seemed rather better, but the medicines had produced no effect.
On the 12th he was confined to bed with fever, and his illness appeared to be increasing; he was very low, and complained of not having had any sleep during the night; but the medical gentlemen saw no cause for alarm. Dr Bruno, his own physician, again proposed bleeding; the stranger still, however, thought it might be deferred, and Byron himself was opposed to it. “You will die,” said Dr Bruno, “if you do not allow yourself to be bled.” “You wish to get the reputation of curing my disease,” replied his Lordship, “that is why you tell me it is so serious; but I will not permit you to bleed me.”
On the 13th he sat up for some time, after a sleepless night, and still complained of pain in his bones and head.
On the 14th he also left his bed. The fever was less, but the debility greater, and the pain in his hea
d was undiminished. His valet became alarmed, and, doubtful of the skill of the doctors around him, entreated permission to send to Zante for an English physician of greater reputation. His Lordship desired him to consult the others, which he did, and they told him there was no occasion to call in any person, as they hoped all would be well in a few days.
His Lordship now began to doubt if his disease was understood, and remarked repeatedly in the course of this day, that he was sure the doctors did not understand it. “Then, my Lord,” said Fletcher, his valet, “have other advice.” “They tell me,” rejoined his Lordship, “that it is only a common cold, which you know I have had a thousand times.”
“I am sure you never had one of so serious a nature.”
“I think I never had.”
Fletcher then went again to the physicians, and repeated his solicitations that the doctor in Zante might be sent for; but was again assured that his master would be better in two or three days.
At length, the doctor who had too easily consented to the postponement of the bleeding, seeing the prognostications of Dr Bruno more and more confirmed, urged the necessity of bleeding, and of no longer delay. This convinced Byron, who was himself greatly averse to the operation, that they did not understand his case.
On the 15th his Lordship felt the pains abated, insomuch that he was able to transact some business.
On the 16th he wrote a letter, but towards the evening he became worse, and a pound of blood was taken from him. Still the disease was making progress, but Dr Bruno did not yet seem much alarmed; on the contrary, he thought were more blood removed his recovery was certain. Fletcher immediately told his master, urging him to comply with the doctor’s wishes. “I fear,” said his Lordship, “they know nothing about my disorder, but” — and he stretched out his arm — ”here, take my arm and do whatever you like.”