At the beginning of the war, Missolonghi consisted of about 800 scattered
houses, built close to the seaside on a muddy and most unhealthy site,
scarcely above the level of the waters, 'which a few centuries ago must
have covered the spot, as may be judged from the nature of the soil,
consisting of decomposed seaweed and dried mud.' The population was
exceedingly poor, and amounted to nearly 3,000 souls. The town had a most
uninviting appearance; the streets were narrow and badly paved. But, says
Millingen, what most revolted a stranger was the practice of having the
buildings so constructed that the most loathsome substances were emptied
into the streets. The inhabitants were so accustomed to this abominable
state of things that they ridiculed the complaints of strangers, and even
swore at people who ventured to suggest reform. Missolonghi must indeed
have been a wretched place even for a strong man in his full powers and
vitality--for Byron it was nothing short of Death! Trelawny tells us that
this place is situated on the verge of a dismal swamp. The marvel to him
was that Byron, who was always liable to fevers, should have consented to
live three months on this mud-bank, shut in by a circle of stagnant pools
'which might be called the belt of death.' When Trelawny arrived in the
early spring, he found most of the strangers suffering from gastric
fevers. He waded through the streets, 'between wind and water,' to the
house where Byron had lived--a detached building on the margin of the
shallow, slimy sea-waters.
Such, then, was the residence which was destined to be the last home of
the author of 'Childe Harold!'
Byron had scarcely reached the modest apartment which had been assigned to
him, when he was greeted by the tumultuous visits of the Primates and
chiefs. All the chieftains of Western Greece--that is to say, the
mountainous districts occupied by the Greeks--were now collected at
Missolonghi in a general assembly, together with many of the Primates of
the same districts. Mavrocordato, at that time Governor-General of the
province, was President of the Assembly, with a bodyguard of 5,000 armed
men. The first object of this assembly, says Gamba, was to organize the
military forces, the assignment of the soldiers' pay, and the
establishment of the national constitution and some regular form of
government for Western Greece. The chieftains were not all of them well
disposed towards Mavrocordato; the soldiers were badly paid--in fact,
hardly paid at all; and so great was the fear of disturbances, quarrels,
and even of a civil war, that without the influence of Prince
Mavrocordato, and the presence of Byron with his money, there could have
been no harmony.
After the departure of the Turks, who had blockaded Missolonghi, there was
a general feeling of security, and no one expected them to return before
the spring. The Peloponnesus, with exception of the castles of the Morea
and of Patras, of Modon and of Covon, was in the hands of the Greeks. The
northern shore of the Gulf of Lepanto, with the exception of the two
castles, were also in Greek hands. They swayed Boeotia and Attica,
together with the whole isthmus of Corinth.
Such was the state of affairs when Byron arrived on that dismal swamp. The
position in which he found himself required much skill and tact; for the
dissension among the various leaders in other parts of Greece was in its
bitterest phase, and public opinion everywhere was dead against the
executive body. It would have been fatal to the prestige of Byron if, in a
moment of impetuosity, he had cast in his lot with some particular
faction. It was his fixed intention, as it was clearly his best policy, to
reconcile differences, and to bring the contending factions closer
together. His influence amongst all parties was daily increasing, and
everyone believed that Byron would eventually be able to bring discordant
voices into harmony, and pave the way for the formation of a strong,
patriotic Government. He faced the situation bravely, and closed his ears
to the unworthy squabbles of ambitious cliques. He made arrangements, with
the best assistance at hand, to turn the expected loan from England to the
best account, in order to insure the freedom and independence of Greece.
The first day of his arrival at Missolonghi was signalized by an act of
grace. A Turk, who had fallen into the hands of some Greek sailors, was
released by Byron's orders, and, having been clothed and fed at his own
expense, was given quarters at Byron's house until an opportunity occurred
of sending him in freedom to Patras. About a fortnight later, hearing
that four Turkish prisoners were at Missolonghi in a state of destitution,
Byron caused them to be set at liberty, and sent them to Usouff Pacha at
Patras, with a letter which, though it has been often printed, deserves a
place in this narrative:
'HIGHNESS!
'A vessel, in which a friend and some domestics of mine were embarked,
was detained a few days ago, and released by order of your Highness. I
have now to thank you, not for liberating the vessel, which as
carrying a neutral flag, and being under British protection, no one
had a right to detain, but for having treated my friends with so much
kindness while they were in your hands.
'In the hope that it may not be altogether displeasing to your
Highness, I have requested the Governor of this place to release four
Turkish prisoners, and he has humanely consented to do so. I lose no
time, therefore, in sending them back, in order to make as early a
return as I could, for your courtesy on the late occasion. These
prisoners are liberated without any conditions; but should the
circumstance find a place in your recollection, I venture to beg that
your Highness will treat such Greeks as may henceforth fall into your
hands, with humanity; more especially as the horrors of war are
sufficiently great in themselves, without being aggravated by wanton
cruelties on either side.
'NOEL BYRON.
'MISSOLONGHI,
'_January 23, 1824_.'
This letter was the keynote of Byron's policy during the remainder of his
life. The horrors of war were sufficient in themselves without that
unnecessary cruelty so often exhibited by Eastern nations in their
treatment of prisoners of war.
The following account of an incident connected with Byron's clemency to a
prisoner pictures the state of things at Missolonghi.
'This evening,' says Gamba, 'whilst Mavrocordato was with Lord Byron,
two sailors belonging to the privateer which had taken the Turk came
into the room, demanding in an insolent tone that their prisoner
should be delivered up to them. Lord Byron refused; their importunity
became more violent, and they refused to leave the room without their
Turk (such was their expression) on which Lord Byron, presenting a
pistol at the intruders, threatened to proceed to extremities unless
they instantly retired. The sailors withdrew, but Byron complained to
Mavrocordato of his want of authority, and said to him: "If your
Government cannot protect me in my own house, I will find means to
protect myself." From that time Lord Byron retained a Suliote guard in
his house.'
During the winter preparations were being made for an expedition against
Lepanto, a fortress which, if captured by the Greeks, would facilitate the
siege of Patras. Its fortifications were constructed on the slope of a
hill, forming a triangle, the base of which was close to the sea. Its
walls were of Venetian construction, but without ditches. As portions of
its walls were commanded by a neighbouring hill, its siege would have
proved a very arduous undertaking even with regular troops; but with raw
Greek levies its reduction, except by famine, would have been almost
impossible. On January 14, 1824, Colonel Stanhope writes to Mr. Bowring in
the following terms: 'Lord Byron has taken 500 Suliotes into pay. He burns
with military ardour and chivalry, and will proceed with the expedition to
Lepanto.' Circumstances were, however, against this expedition from the
very beginning. Great hopes had been entertained by Lord Byron and by
Colonel Stanhope that the Suliotes would conform to discipline, and that
Mr. Parry, who had been sent out by the Greek Committee with stores and
ammunition, would on his arrival organize the artillery, and manufacture
Congreve rockets--a projectile of which the Turks were said to be in great
awe.
Parry arrived at Missolonghi early in February, on board the brig _Anna_,
which had been chartered by the London Greek Committee. He brought
cannons, ammunition, printing-presses, medicines, and all the apparatus
necessary for the establishment of a military laboratory. Several English
mechanics came with him, and some English, German, and Swedish gentlemen,
who wished to serve the Greek cause.
Mr. (or, as he was afterwards called) Major, Parry was a peculiar person
in every way. He had at one time served as a shipwright, then as
Firemaster in the King's service, and won favour with Byron through his
buffoonery and plain speaking--two very useful qualifications in
environments of stress and duplicity. When Byron appointed him Major in
the Artillery Brigade, the best officers in the brigade tendered their
resignations, stating that, while they would be proud to serve under Lord
Byron, neither their honour nor the interests of the service would allow
them to serve under a man who had no practical experience of military
evolutions. The German officers also, who had previously served in the
Prussian army, appealed against Parry's appointment, and offered proofs of
his ignorance of artillery. But Byron would not listen to complaints,
which he attributed partly to jealousy and partly to German notions of
etiquette, which seemed to him to be wholly out of place in a country
where merit rather than former titles should regulate such appointments.
In supporting Parry against these officers, Byron was in a measure
influenced by the recommendations of both the Greek Committee who sent him
out, and of Colonel Leicester Stanhope, who at that time considered Parry
to be an exceedingly capable officer. Perhaps, if Parry had not appeared
on parade in an apron, brandishing a hammer, and if he had not asserted
himself so extravagantly, he might possibly have passed muster. But tact
and modesty were not in Parry's line; and having boasted to the London
Committee that he was acquainted with almost every branch of military
mechanics, he bullied its members into a belief that his pretentions were
well founded. As a matter of fact, Parry proved to be unsuited for high
command, although it must be admitted that he worked indefatigably. He
made plans for the erection of a laboratory, and presided over the works.
He paved the yard of the Seraglio, repaired the batteries, instructed the
troops in musketry and gunnery; he gave lessons with the broadsword,
inspected the fortifications, and directed the operations of Cocchini, the
chief engineer. He repaired gun-carriages, and put his hand to anything
wanted, so that it appeared as if really nothing could be done without
him. In one thing only did Parry seem to fall short of general
expectation. He had boasted that he knew the composition of 'Congreve
rockets.' With this mighty instrument of mischief he prophesied that the
Greeks would be able to paralyze all the efforts of their enemy, both by
land and sea. The Turkish cavalry, the only arm against which the Greeks
were impotent, would be rendered useless, and the Turkish vessels, by the
same means, would be easily destroyed.
Unfortunately, the manufacture of these rockets was impossible without the
assistance of the English mechanics whom he had brought with him, and
these men were unable to work without materials, which were not
obtainable. Thus the principal part of Parry's 'stock-in-trade'--his
rockets, incendiary kites, and improved Grecian fires--were not
forthcoming.
For a long time the roads in the neighbourhood of Missolonghi were so
broken up by incessant rain that Byron could not ride or take any outdoor
exercise. This affected his health. His only means of getting a little
fresh air was by paddling through the murky waters in a sort of canoe.
During these expeditions, says Gamba, who always accompanied him, he spoke
often of his anxiety to begin the campaign. He had not much hope of
success, but felt that something must be done during these tedious months,
if only to employ the troops and keep them from creating disturbances in
the town.
'I am not come here in search of adventures,' said Byron, 'but to
assist the regeneration of a nation, whose very debasement makes it
more honourable to become their friend. Regular troops are certainly
necessary, but not in great numbers: regular troops alone would not
succeed in a country like Greece; and irregular troops alone are only
just better than nothing. Only let the loan be raised; and in the
meantime let us try to form a strong national Government, ready to
apply our pecuniary resources, when they arrive, to the organization
of troops, the establishment of internal civilization, and the
preparations for acting defensively now, and on the offensive next
winter. Nothing is so insupportable to me as all these minute details
and these repeated delays. But patience is indispensable, and that I
find the most difficult of all attainments.'
It was Byron's custom to spend his evenings in Colonel Stanhope's room,
with his English comrades. Sometimes the Germans would join the party,
play on their flutes, and sing their national airs to the accompaniment
of a guitar. Byron was fond of music in general, and was especially
partial to German music, particularly to their national songs.
Millingen tells us that in the evening all the English who had not, with
Colonel Stanhope, turned Odysseans assembled at Byron's house, and enjoyed
the charm of his conversation till late at night. Byron's character, says
Millingen,
'differed so much from what I had been induced to imagine from the
relations of travellers, that either their reports must have been
inaccurate, or his character must have totally changed after his
departure from Genoa. It would be difficult, indeed impossible, to
convey an idea of the pleasure his conversation afforded. Among his
works, that which may perhaps be more particularly regarded as
exhibiting the mirror of his conversation, and the spirit which
animated it, is "Don Juan." He was indeed too open, and too indiscreet
in respect to the reminiscences of his early days. Sometimes, when his
vein of humour flowed more copiously than usual, he would play tricks
on individuals. Fletcher's boundless credulity afforded him an
ever-ready fund of amusement, and he one evening planned a farce,
which was as well executed and as laughable as any ever exhibited on
the stage. Having observed how nervous Parry had been, a few days
before, during an earthquake, he felt desirous of renewing the
ludicrous sight which the fat, horror-struck figure of the Major had
exhibited on that occasion. He placed, therefore, fifty of his
Suliotes in the room above that where Parry slept, and towards
midnight ordered them to shake the house, so as to imitate that
phenomenon. He himself at the same time banged the doors, and rushed
downstairs, delighted to see the almost distracted Major imploring
tremblingly the mercy of heaven.'
Lord Byron was very much taken with Parry, whose drolleries relieved the
tedium and constant vexations incidental to the situation at Missolonghi.
The Major appears to have been an excellent mimic, and possessed a fund of
quaint expressions that made up for the deficiency of real wit. Millingen
says that he could tell, in his coarse language, a good story, and could
play Falstaff's, or the part of a clown very naturally. He ranted Richard
III.'s or Hamlet's soliloquies in a mock-tragic manner like a player at
Bartholomew Fair, which made everyone laugh, and beguiled the length of
many a rainy evening.
On January 21, 1824, Missolonghi was blockaded by the Turkish fleet. There
were neither guns nor even sailors fit to man the gunboats; the only
chance was to make a night attack upon the Turks in boats manned by the
European volunteers then residing at Missolonghi. Byron took the matter in
hand, and insisted on joining personally in the expedition. He was so
determined on this project that Mavrocordato and others, realizing the
folly of exposing so valuable a life on so desperate an enterprise,
dissuaded Byron from risking his valuable life in a business for which
there were already sufficient volunteers. As things turned out, it did not
much matter, for the Turkish fleet suddenly abandoned the blockade and
returned to the gulf.
On January 22, while Colonel Stanhope and some friends were assembled,
Byron came from his bedroom and said, with a smile: 'You were complaining
the other day that I never write any poetry now: this is my birthday, and
I have just finished something, which, I think, is better than what I
usually write.' He then produced those affecting verses on his own
birthday which were afterwards found written in his journal, with the
following introduction: 'January 22: on this day I complete my
thirty-sixth year.'
'We perceived from these lines,' says Gamba, 'as well as from his
daily conversations, that his ambition and his hope were irrevocably
fixed upon the glorious objects of his expedition to Greece, and that
he had made up his mind to "return victorious, or return no more."
Indeed, he often said to me, "Others may do as they please--they may
go--but I stay here, _that is certain_."'
This resolution was accompanied with the natural presentiment that he
should never leave Greece alive. He one day asked his faithful servant
Tita whether he thought of returning to Italy. 'Yes,' said Tita; 'if your
lordship goes, I go.' Lord Byron smiled, and said: 'No, Tita, I shall
never go back from Greece; either the Turks, or the Greeks, or the
climate, will prevent that.'
Parry tells us that Byron's mind on this point was irrevocably fixed.
'My future intentions,' he said, 'may be explained in a few words. I
will remain here in Greece till she is secure against the Turks, or
till she has fallen under her 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 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
recognizing 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....
'The cause of Greece naturally excites our sympathy. Her people are
Christians contending against Turks, and slaves struggling to be free.
There never was a cause which had such strong claims on the sympathy
of the people of Europe, and particularly of the people of
England.'[16]
The following extract from a letter written by Mr. George Finlay in June,
1824, seems worthy of production in this place:
'I arrived at Missolonghi at the latter end of February. During my
stay there, in the forenoon I rode out with Lord Byron; and generally
Mr. Fowke and myself spent the evenings in his room.
'In our rides, the state of Greece was the usual subject of our
conversation; and at times he expressed a strong wish to revisit
Athens. I mentioned the great cheapness of property in Attica, and the
possibility of my purchasing some of the villas near the city. He said
that, if I could find any eligible property, he would have no
objections to purchase likewise, as he wished to have some real
property in Greece; and he authorized me to treat for him. I always
urged him to make Corinth his headquarters. Sometimes he appeared
inclined to do so, and remarked, that it would be a strange
coincidence if, after writing an unsuccessful defence of Corinth, he
should himself make a successful one. An event so fortunate, I said,
would leave him no more to ask from fortune, and reminded him how very
much of fame depends on mere accident. Cæsar's conquests and his works
would not have raised his fame so high, but for the manner of his
death.
'In the evenings Lord Byron was generally extremely communicative, and
talked much of his youthful scenes at Cambridge, Brighton, and London;
spoke very often of his friends, Mr. Hobhouse and Mr. Scrope B.
Davies--told many anecdotes of himself which are well known, and many
which were amusing from his narration, but which would lose their
interest from another; but what astonished me the most was the ease
with which he spoke of all those reports which were spread by his
enemies--he gave his denials and explanations with the frankness of an
unconcerned person.
'I often spoke to him about Newstead Abbey, which I had visited in
1821, a few months before leaving England. On informing him of the
repairs and improvements which were then going on, he said, if he had
been rich enough, he should have liked to have kept it as the old
abbey; but he enjoyed the excellent bargain he had made at the sale. A
solicitor sent him a very long bill, and, on his grumbling at the
amount, he said he was silenced by a letter, reminding him that he had
received £20,000 forfeit-money from the first purchaser. I mentioned
the picture of his bear in the cottage near the lodge--the
Newfoundland dog and the verses on its tomb. He said, Newfoundland
dogs had twice saved his life, and that he could not live without one.
'He spoke frequently of the time he lived at Aberdeen. Their house was
near the college. He described the place, but I have forgotten it. He
said his mother's "lassack" used to put him to bed at a very early
hour, and then go to converse with her lover; he had heard the house
was haunted, and sometimes used to get out of bed and run along the
lobby in his shirt, till he saw a light, and there remain standing
till he was so cold he was forced to go to bed again. One night the
servant returning, he grew frightened and ran towards his room; the
maid saw him, and fled more frightened than he; she declared she had
seen a ghost. Lord Byron said, he was so frightened at the maid, he
kept the secret till she was turned away; and, he added, he never
since kept a secret half so long. The first passion he ever felt was
for a young lady who was on a visit to his mother while they lived in
Scotland; he was at the time about six years old, and the young lady
about nine, yet he was almost ill on her leaving his mother's house to
return home. He told me, if I should ever meet the lady (giving me her
address), to ask her if she remembers him. On some conversation about
the "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," he gave as a reason for his
attacking many of the persons included, that he was informed, some
time before the publication of the review, that the next number was to
contain an article on his poems which had been read at Holland House.
"Judge of my fever; was it not a pleasant situation for a young
author?"
'In conversation he used to deliver very different opinions on many
authors from those contained in his works; in the one case he might be
guided more by his judgment, and in the other submit entirely to his
own particular taste. I have quoted his writings in opposition to his
words, and he replied, "Never mind what I print; that is not what I
think." He certainly did not consider much of the poetry of the
present day as "possessing buoyancy enough to float down the stream of
time." I remarked, he ought really to alter the passage in the preface
of "Marino Faliero," on living dramatic talent; he exclaimed,
laughing, "Do you mean me to erase the name of _moral me_?" In this
manner he constantly distinguished Milman, alluding to some nonsense
in the _Quarterly Review_. He was extremely amused with _Blackwood's
Magazine_, and read it whenever he could get a number; he has
frequently repeated to me passages of Ensign O'Doherty's poetry, which
I had not read, and expressed great astonishment at the ability
displayed by the author.
'On a gentleman present once asking his opinion of the works of a
female author of some note, he said, "A bad imitation of me--all pause
and start."
'On my borrowing Mitford's "History of Greece" from him, and saying I
had read it once, and intended commencing it again in Greece, he said,
"I hate the book; it makes you too well acquainted with the ancient
Greeks, and robs antiquity of all its charms. History in his hands,
has no poetry."
'I was in the habit of praising Sir William Gell's Itineraries to Lord
B., and he, on the other hand, took every opportunity of attacking his
Argolis though his attacks were chiefly directed against the drawings,
and particularly the view of the bay. He told me he was the author of
the article on Sir W. Gell's Argolis in the _Monthly Review_, and said
he had written two other articles in this work; but I have forgotten
them.[17]
'Whenever the drama was mentioned, he defended the unities most
eagerly, and usually attacked Shakspeare. A gentleman present, on
hearing his anti-Shakspearean opinions, rushed out of the room, and
afterwards entered his protest most anxiously against such doctrines.
Lord B. was quite delighted with this, and redoubled the severity of
his criticism. I had heard that Shelley once said to Lord B. in his
extraordinary way, "B., you are a most wonderful man." "How?" "You are
envious of Shakspeare." I, therefore, never expressed the smallest
astonishment at hearing Shakspeare abused; but remarked, it was
curious that Lord B. was so strangely conversant in an author of such
inferior merit, and that he should so continually have the most
melodious lines of Shakspeare in his mouth as examples of blank verse.
He said once, when we were alone, "I like to astonish Englishmen: they
come abroad full of Shakspeare, and contempt for the dramatic
literature of other nations; they think it blasphemy to find a fault
in his writings, which are full of them. People talk of the tendency
of my writings, and yet read the sonnets to Master Hughes." Lord B.
certainly did not admire the French tragedians enthusiastically. I
said to him, "There is a subject for the Drama which, I believe, has
never been touched, and which, I think, affords the greatest possible
scope for the representation of all that is sublime in human
character--but then it would require an abandonment of the
unities--the attack of Maurice of Saxony on Charles V., which saved
the Protestant religion; it is a subject of more than national
interest." He said it was certainly a fine subject; but he held that
the drama could not exist without a strict adherence to the unities;
and besides, he knew well he had failed in his dramatic attempts, and
that he intended to make no more. He said he thought "Sardanapalus"
his best tragedy.
'The memory of Lord B. was very extraordinary; it was not the mere
mechanical memory which can repeat the advertisements of a newspaper
and such nonsense; but of all the innumerable novels which he had
read, he seemed to recollect perfectly the story and every scene of
merit.
'Once I had a bet with Mr. Fowke that Maurice of Orange was not the
grandson of Maurice of Saxony, as it ran in my head that Maurice was a
son of Count Horn's sister. On applying for a decision of our bet to
Lord B., he immediately told me I was wrong, that William of Orange
was thrice married, and that he had Maurice by a daughter of Maurice
of Saxony: he repeated the names of all the children. I said, "This is
the most extraordinary instance of your memory I ever heard." He
replied, "It's not very extraordinary--I read it all a few days ago in
Watson's "Philip II.," and you will find it in a note at the bottom of
the last page but one" (I think he said) "of the second volume." He
went to his bedroom and brought the book, in which we found the note
he had repeated. It seemed to me wonderful enough that such a man
could recollect the names of William of Orange's children and their
families even for ten minutes.
'Once, on receiving some newspapers, in reading the advertisements of
new publications aloud, I read the name of Sir Aubrey de Vere Hunt;
Lord B. instantly said, "Sir Aubrey was at Harrow, I remember, but he
was younger than me. He was an excellent swimmer, and once saved a
boy's life; nobody would venture in, and the boy was nearly drowned,
when Sir Aubrey was called. The boy's name was M'Kinnon, and he went
afterwards to India." I think B. said he died there.
'"It is strange," I replied; "I heard this very circumstance from Sir
Aubrey de Vere Hunt, who inquired if I knew the boy, who must now be a
man, but said, I think, that his name was Mackenzie." "Depend upon it,
I am right," said Byron.
'Lord B. said he had kept a very exact journal of every circumstance
of his life, and many of his thoughts while young, that he had let Mr.
Hobhouse see it in Albania, and that he at last persuaded him to burn
it. He said Hobhouse had robbed the world of a treat. He used to say
that many of his acquaintances, particularly his female ones, while
he was in London, did not like Mr. Hobhouse, "for they thought he
kept me within bounds."
'When he was asked for a motto for the _Greek Telegraph_, by Gamba,
during the time he felt averse to the publication of a European
newspaper in Greece, he gave, "To the Greeks foolishness"--in allusion
to the publication in languages which the natives generally do not
understand.
'On a discussion in his presence concerning the resemblance of
character between the ancient and modern Greeks, he said: "At least we
have St. Paul's authority that they had their present character in his
time; for he says there is no difference between the Jew and the
Greek."
'A few days before I left Missolonghi, riding out together, he told me
that he had received a letter from his sister, in which she mentioned
that one of the family had displayed some poetical talent, but that
she would not tell him who, as she hoped she should hear no more of
it. I said "That is a strange wish from the sister of such a poet." He
replied that he believed the poetical talent was always a source of
pain, and that he certainly would have been happier had he never
written a line.
'Those only who were personally acquainted with him can be aware of
the influence which every passing event had over his mind, or know the
innumerable modifications under which his character was daily
presenting itself; even his writings took a shade of colouring from
those around him. His passions and feelings were so lively that each
occurrence made a strong impression, and his conduct became so
entirely governed by impulse that he immediately and vehemently
declared his sentiments. It is not wonderful, therefore, that
instances of his inconsistency should be found; though in the most
important actions of his life he has acted with no common consistency,
and his death attests his sincerity. To attempt by scattered facts to
illustrate his character is really useless. A hundred could be
immediately told to prove him a miser; as many to prove him the most
generous of men; an equal number, perhaps, to show he was nervously
alive to the distresses of others, or heartlessly unfeeling; at times
that he indulged in every desire; at others, that he pursued the most
determined system of self-denial; that he ridiculed his friends, or
defended them with the greatest anxiety. At one time he was all
enthusiasm; at another perfect indifference on the very same subject.
All this would be true, and yet our inference most probably incorrect.
Such hearts as Lord B.'s must become old at an early age, from the
continual excitement to which they are exposed, and those only can
judge fairly of him, even from his personal acquaintance, who knew him
from his youth, when his feelings were warmer than they could be
latterly. From some of those who have seen the whole course of his
wonderful existence, we may, indeed, expect information; and it is
information, not scandal, that will be sought for.'