[The _Foreign Quarterly Review_ gives the following sketch as a
"_pendant_ to Mr. Pouqueville's picture of the poet, given in a
preceding page," and requoted by us in the last No. of the MIRROR. It is
from a History of Greece, by Rizo, a Wallachian sentimentalist of the
first order, and in enthusiasm and exuberance of style, it will perhaps
compare with any previous sketches of the late Lord Byron: but the
romantic interest which Rizo has thrown about these "more last words"
will doubtless render them acceptable to our readers.]
For several years a man, a poet, excited the admiration of civilized
people. His sublime genius towered above the atmosphere, and penetrated,
with a searching look, even into the deepest abysses of the human heart.
Envy, which could not reach the poet, attacked the man, and wounded him
cruelly; but, too great to defend, and too generous to revenge himself,
he only sought for elevated impressions, and "_vivoit de grand
sensations_," (which we cannot translate), capable of the most noble
devotedness, and, persuaded that excellence is comprised in justice, he
embraced the cause of the Greeks. Still young, Byron had traversed Greece,
_properly so called_, and described the moral picture of its inhabitants.
He quitted these countries, pitying in his verses the misery of the
Greeks, blaming their lethargy, and despising their stupid submission; so
difficult is it to know a nation by a rapid glance. What was the
astonishment of the poet, when some years later he saw these people, whom
he had thought unworthy to bear the name of Greeks, rise up with
simultaneous eagerness, and declare, in the face of the world, that "they
_would_ again become a nation." Byron hesitated at first; ancient
prepossessions made him attribute this rupture to a partial convulsion,
the ultimate effort of a being ready to breathe the last sigh. Soon new
prodigies, brilliant exploits, and heroic constancy, which sustained
itself in spite of every opposition, proved to him that he had ill-judged
this people, and excited him to repair his error by the sacrifice of his
fortune and life; he wished to concur in the work of regeneration. From
the shores of the beautiful Etruria he set sail for Greece, in the month
of August, 1823. He visited at first the seven Ionian Isles, where he
sojourned some time, busied in concluding the first Greek loan. The death
of Marco Botzaris redoubled the enthusiasm of Byron, and perhaps
determined him to prefer the town of Missolonghi, which already showed
for its glory the tombs of Normann, Kyriakoulis, and Botzaris. Alas! that
town was destined, four months later, to reckon another mausoleum!
Towards the month of November a Hydriote brig of war, commanded by the
nephew of the brave Criézy, sailed to Cephalonia to take him on board,
and bring him to Missolonghi; but the Septinsular government, not
permitting ships bearing a Greek flag to come into its harbours, Byron
was obliged to pass to Zante in a small vessel, and to join the Greek
brig afterwards, which was waiting for him near Zante. Hardly was Byron
on board when he kissed the mainmast, calling it "_sacred wood_." The
ship's crew astonished at this whimsical behaviour, regarded him in
silence; suddenly Byron turned towards the captain and the sailors, whom
he embraced with tears, and said to them, "It is by this wood that you
will consolidate your independence." At these words the sailors, moved
with enthusiasm, regarded him with admiration. Byron soon reached
Missolonghi: the members of the Administrative Council received him at
the head of two thousand soldiers drawn up in order. The artillery of the
place, and the discharge of musquetry announced the happy arrival of this
great man. All the inhabitants ran to the shore, and welcomed him with
acclamations. As soon as he had entered the town, he went to the hotel of
the Administrative Council, where he was complimented by Porphyrios,
Archbishop of Arta, Lepanto and Etolia, accompanied by all his clergy.
The first words of Byron were, "Where is the brother of the modern
Leonidas?" Constantine Botzaris, a young man, tall and well made,
immediately stepped forward, and Byron thus accosted him:--"Happy mortal!
Thou art the brother of a hero, whose name will never be effaced in the
lapse of ages!" Then perceiving a great crowd assembled under the windows
of the hotel, he advanced towards the casement, and said, "Hellenes! you
see amongst you an Englishman who has never ceased to study Greece in her
antiquity, and to think of her in her modern state; an Englishman who has
always invoked by his vows that liberty, for which you are now making so
many heroic efforts. I am grateful for the sentiments which you testify
towards me; in a short time you will see me in the middle of your
phalanxes, to conquer or perish with you." A month afterwards the
government sent him a deputation, charged to offer him a sword and the
patent of Greek citizenship; at the same time the town of Missolonghi
inscribed him in its archives. For this public act they prepared a solemn
ceremony for him; they fixed beforehand the day--they invited there by
circular letters the inhabitants of the neighbouring districts--and more
than twenty thousand persons arrived at Missolonghi. Byron in a Greek
costume, preceded and followed by all the military, who loved him,
proceeded to the church, where the Archbishop Porphyrios and the bishop
of Rogon, Joseph, that martyr of religion and his country, received him
in the vestibule of the church, clothed in their sacerdotal habits; and,
after having celebrated mass, they offered him the sword and the patent
of citizenship. Byron demanded that the sword should be first dedicated
on the tomb of Marco Botzaris; and immediately the whole retinue, and an
immense crowd, went out of the church to the tomb of that warrior, which
had been ornamented with beautiful marble at the expense of the poet.
The archbishop placed the sword upon this tomb, and then Byron, to
inspire the Greeks with enthusiasm, advanced with a religious silence,
and stopping all on a sudden, he pronounced this discourse in the Greek
tongue:--"What man reposes buried under this stone? What hollow voice
issues from this tomb? What is this sepulchre, from whence will spring
the happiness of Greece? But what am I saying? Is it not the tomb of
Marco Botzaris, who has been dead some months, and who, with a handful of
brave men, precipitated himself upon the numerous ranks of the most
formidable enemies of Greece? How dare I approach the sacred place where
he reposes--I, who neither possess his heroism nor his virtues? However,
in touching this tomb, I hope that its emanations will always inflame my
heart with patriotism." So saying, and advancing towards the sepulchre,
he kissed it while shedding tears. Every spectator exclaimed, "Lord Byron
for ever!" "I see," added his lordship, "the sword and the letter of
citizenship, which the government offers me; from this day I am the
fellow-citizen of this hero, and of all the brave people who surround me.
Hellenes! I hope to live with you, to fight the enemy with you, and to
die with you if it be necessary." Byron, superior to vulgar prejudice,
saw in the manners of the _pallikares_ an ingenuous simplicity, a manly
frankness and rustic procedure, but full of honour; he observed in the
people a docility and constancy capable of the greatest efforts, when it
shall be conducted by skilful and virtuous men; he observed amongst the
Greek women natural gaiety, unstudied gentleness, and religious
resignation to misfortunes.
Byron did not pretend to bend a whole people to his tastes and European
habits. He came not to censure with a stern look their costumes, their
dances, and their music; on the contrary, he entered into their national
dances, he learned their warlike songs, he dressed himself like them, he
spoke their language; in a word, he soon became a true _Roumeliote_.
Consequently, he was adored by all Western Greece; every captain
acknowledged him with pleasure as his chief; the proud Souliots gloried
in being under his immediate command. The funds of the first loan being
addressed to him, and submitted to his inspection, gave him influence,
not only over continental Greece, but even over the Peloponnesus; so that
he was in a situation, if not sufficient to stifle discord, at least to
keep it within bounds. Not having yet fathomed the character of all the
chief people, as well civil as military, he was sometimes deceived in the
beginning of his sojourn, which a little hurt his popularity; but being
completely above trifling passions, being able to strengthen by his union
with it the party which appeared to him the most patriotic, he might
without any doubt, with time and experience, have played a part the most
magnificent and salutary to Greece. At first he had constructed, at his
own expense, a fort in the little isle of Xéclamisma, the capture of
which would have given great facilities to the enemies to attack by sea
Missolonghi or Anatoliko. Missolonghi gave to this important fort the
name of "Fort Byron." This nobleman conceived afterwards, studied and
prepared an expedition against the strong place of Lepanto, the capture
of which would have produced consequences singularly favourable. Once in
possession of the means of regularly paying the soldiers, he would have
been able to form a choice body, and take the town, which did not present
any difficulty of attack, either on account of the few troops shut up
there, or the weakness of its fortifications. Byron only waited the
arrival of the loan, to begin his march.
Thus he led an agreeable life in the midst of a nation which he aimed at
saving. Enchanted with the bravery of the Souliots, and their manners,
which recalled to him the simplicity of Homeric times, he assisted at
their banquets, extended upon the turf; he learnt their pyrrhic dance,
and he sang in unison the airs of Riga, harmonizing his steps to the
sound of their national mandolin. Alas! he carried too far his benevolent
condescension. Towards the beginning of April he went to hunt in the
marshes of Missolonghi. He entered on foot in the shallows; he came out
quite wet, and, following the example of the _pallikares_ accustomed to
the _malaria_, he would not change his clothes, and persisted in having
them dried upon his body. Attacked with an inflammation upon the lungs,
he refused to let himself be bled, notwithstanding the intreaties of his
physician, of Maurocordato and all his friends. His malady quickly grew
worse; on the fourth day Byron became delirious; by means of bleeding he
recovered from his drowsiness, but without being able to speak; then,
feeling his end approaching, he gave his attendants to understand that he
wished to take leave of the captains and all the Souliots. As each
approached, Byron made a sign to them to kiss him. At last he expired in
the arms of Maurocordato, whilst pronouncing the names of his daughter
and of Greece. His death was fatal to the nation, which it plunged in
mourning and tears.
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