The news of Byron's death spread like wildfire through the streets and
bazaars of Missolonghi. The whole city seemed stunned by the unexpected
blow. Byron's illness had been known, but no one dreamed that it would end
so fatally. As Gamba has well said: 'He died in a strange land, and
amongst strangers; but more loved, more sincerely wept, he could never
have been wherever he had breathed his last.'
On the day of Byron's death, Mavrocordato issued the following
proclamation, which forms a real and enduring tribute to the memory of one
who, in the prime of life, died in a great cause:
PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT OF WESTERN GREECE.
The present day of festivity and rejoicing is turned into one of
sorrow and mourning.
The Lord Noel Byron departed this life at eleven o'clock last night,
after an illness of ten days, his death being caused by an
inflammatory fever. Such was the effect of his lordship's illness on
the public mind, that all classes had forgotten their usual
recreations of Easter, even before the afflicting end was apprehended.
The loss of this illustrious individual is undoubtedly to be deplored
by all Greece; but it must be more especially a subject of lamentation
at Missolonghi, where his generosity has been so conspicuously
displayed, and of which he had even become a citizen, with the
ulterior determination of participating in all the dangers of the
war.
Everybody is acquainted with the beneficent acts of his lordship, and
none can cease to hail his name as that of a real benefactor.
Until, therefore, the final determination of the National Government
be known, and by virtue of the powers with which it has been pleased
to invest me, I hereby decree:
1st. To-morrow morning at daylight, 37 minute-guns shall be fired from
the grand battery, being the number which corresponds with the age of
the illustrious deceased.
2nd. All the public offices, even to the tribunals, are to remain
closed for three successive days.
3rd. All the shops, except those in which provisions or medicines are
sold, will also be shut; and it is strictly enjoined, that every
species of public amusement and other demonstrations of festivity at
Easter may be suspended.
4th. A general mourning will be observed for twenty-one days.
5th. Prayers and a funeral service are to be offered up in all the
churches.
(_Signed_) A. MAVROCORDATO.
GIORGIUS PRAIDIS,
_Secretary_.
Given at Missolonghi,
this 19th day of April, 1824.
At sunrise, on the day following Byron's death, thirty-seven minute-guns
were fired from the principal battery; and one of the batteries belonging
to the corps immediately under his orders fired a gun every half-hour
during the day. We take the following from Gamba's journal:
'_April 21._--For the remainder of this day and the next, a silence,
like that of the grave, prevailed over the city. We had intended to
perform the funeral ceremony on the 21st, but the continued rain
prevented us. On the 22nd, however, we acquitted ourselves of that sad
duty, so far as our humble means would permit. In the midst of his own
brigade, of the Government troops, and of the whole population, on
the shoulders of his own officers, the most precious portion of his
honoured remains was carried to the church, where lie the bodies of
Marco Bozzari and of General Normann. There we laid them down. The
coffin was a rude, ill-constructed chest of wood; a black mantle
served for a pall; and over it we placed a helmet and sword, with a
crown of laurels. No funeral pomp could have left the impression, nor
spoken the feelings, of this simple ceremony. The wretchedness and
desolation of the place itself; the wild, half-civilized warriors
around us; their deep, unaffected grief; the fond recollections and
disappointed hopes; the anxieties and sad presentiments depicted on
every countenance, contributed to form a scene more moving, more truly
affecting, than perhaps was ever before witnessed round the coffin of
a great man.'
Spiridion Tricoupi, a son of one of the Primates of Missolonghi,
pronounced the funeral oration in the following words, translated from the
modern Greek by an inhabitant of Missolonghi:
'Unlooked-for event! Deplorable misfortune! But a short time has
elapsed since the people of this deeply suffering country welcomed,
with unfeigned joy and open arms, this celebrated individual to their
bosoms. To-day, overwhelmed with grief and despair, they bathe his
funeral couch with tears of bitterness, and mourn over it with
inconsolable affliction. On Easter Sunday, the happy salutation of the
day, "Christ is risen," remained but half spoken on the lips of every
Greek; and as they met, before even congratulating one another on the
return of that joyous day, the universal question was, "How is Lord
Byron?" Thousands assembled in the spacious plain outside the city, to
commemorate the sacred day, appeared as if they had assembled for the
sole purpose of imploring the Saviour of the world to restore to
health him who was a partaker with us in our present struggle for the
deliverance of our native land. And how is it possible that any heart
should remain unmoved, any lip closed, upon the present occasion? Was
ever Greece in greater want of assistance than when Lord Byron, at
the peril of his life, crossed over to Missolonghi? Then, and ever
since he has been with us, his liberal hand has been opened to our
necessities--necessities which our own poverty would have otherwise
rendered irremediable. How many and much greater benefits did we not
expect from him! And to-day, alas! to-day, the unrelenting grave
closes over him and all our hopes.
'Residing out of Greece, and enjoying all the pleasures and luxuries
of Europe, he might have contributed materially to the success of our
cause without coming personally amongst us; and this would have been
sufficient for us, for the well-proved ability and profound judgment
of our Governor, the President of the Senate, would have insured our
safety with the means so supplied. But if this was sufficient for us,
it was not so for Lord Byron. Destined by Nature to uphold the rights
of man whenever he saw them trampled upon; born in a free and
enlightened country; early taught, by reading the works of our
ancestors, which teach all who can read them, not only what man is,
but what he ought to be, and what he may be, he saw the persecuted and
enslaved Greek determined to break the heavy chains with which he was
bound, and to convert the iron into sharp-edged swords, that he might
regain by force what force had torn from him. He came to share our
sufferings; assisting us, not only with his wealth, of which he was
profuse; not only with his judgment, of which he has given us so many
salutary examples; but with his sword, which he was preparing to
unsheath against our barbarous and tyrannical oppressors. He
came--according to the testimony of those who were intimate with
him--with a determination to die in Greece and for Greece. How,
therefore, can we do otherwise than lament with deep sorrow the loss
of such a man! How can we do otherwise than bewail it as the loss of
the whole Greek nation! Thus far, my friends, you have seen him
liberal, generous, courageous, a true Philhellenist; and you have seen
him as your benefactor. This is indeed a sufficient cause for your
tears, but it is not sufficient for his honour. It is not sufficient
for the greatness of the undertaking in which he had engaged. He,
whose death we are now so deeply deploring, was a man who, in one
great branch of literature, gave his name to the age in which we live:
the vastness of his genius and the richness of his fancy did not
permit him to follow the splendid though beaten track of the literary
fame of the ancients; he chose a new road--a road which ancient
prejudice had endeavoured, and was still endeavouring, to shut against
the learned of Europe: but as long as his writings live, and they must
live as long as the world exists, this road will remain always open;
for it is, as well as the other, a sure road to true knowledge. I will
not detain you at the present time by expressing all the respect and
enthusiasm with which the perusal of his writings has always inspired
me, and which, indeed, I feel much more powerfully now than at any
other period. The learned men of all Europe celebrate him, and have
celebrated him; and all ages will celebrate the poet of our age, for
he was born for all Europe and for all ages.
'One consideration occurs to me, as striking and true as it is
applicable to the present state of our country: listen to it, my
friends, with attention, that you may make it your own, and that it
may become a generally acknowledged truth. There have been many great
and splendid nations in the world, but few have been the epochs of
their true glory: one phenomenon, I am inclined to believe, is wanting
in the history of these nations, and one the possibility of the
appearance of which the all-considering mind of the philosopher has
much doubted. Almost all the nations of the world have fallen from the
hands of one master into those of another; some have been benefited,
others have been injured by the change; but the eye of the historian
has not yet seen a nation enslaved by barbarians, and more
particularly by barbarians rooted for ages in their soil--has not yet
seen, I say, such a people throw off their slavery unassisted and
alone. This is the phenomenon; and now, for the first time in the
history of the world, we witness it in Greece--yes, in Greece alone!
The philosopher beholds it from afar, and his doubts are dissipated;
the historian sees it, and prepares his citation of it as a new event
in the fortunes of nations; the statesman sees it, and becomes more
observant and more on his guard. Such is the extraordinary time in
which we live. My friends, the insurrection of Greece is not an epoch
of our nation alone; it is an epoch of all nations: for, as I before
observed, it is a phenomenon which stands alone in the political
history of nations.
'The great mind of the highly gifted and much lamented Byron observed
this phenomenon, and he wished to unite his name with our glory. Other
revolutions have happened in his time, but he did not enter into any
of them--he did not assist any of them; for their character and nature
were totally different: the cause of Greece alone was a cause worthy
of him whom all the learned men of Europe celebrate. Consider then, my
friends, consider the time in which you live--in what a struggle you
are engaged; consider that the glory of past ages admits not of
comparison with yours: the friends of liberty, the philanthropists,
the philosophers of all nations, and especially of the enlightened and
generous English nation, congratulate you, and from afar rejoice with
you; all animate you; and the poet of our age, already crowned with
immortality, emulous of your glory, came personally to your shores,
that he might, together with yourselves, wash out with his blood the
marks of tyranny from our polluted soil.
'Born in the great capital of England, his descent noble on the side
of both his father and his mother, what unfeigned joy did his
Philhellenic heart feel when our poor city, in token of our gratitude,
inscribed his name among the number of her citizens! In the agonies of
death--yes, at the moment when eternity appeared before him; as he was
lingering on the brink of mortal and immortal life; when all the
material world appeared but as a speck in the great works of the
Divine Omnipotence; in that awful hour, but two names dwelt upon the
lips of this illustrious individual, leaving all the world
besides--the names of his only and much-beloved daughter, and of
Greece: these two names, deeply engraven on his heart, even the moment
of death could not efface. "My daughter!" he said; "Greece!" he
exclaimed; and his spirit passed away. What Grecian heart will not be
deeply affected as often as it recalls this moment?
'Our tears, my friends, will be grateful, very grateful, to his shade,
for they are the tears of sincere affection; but much more grateful
will be our deeds in the cause of our country, which, though removed
from us, he will observe from the heavens, of which his virtues have
doubtless opened to him the gates. This return alone does he require
from us for all his munificence; this reward for his love towards us;
this consolation for his sufferings in our cause; and this inheritance
for the loss of his invaluable life. When your exertions, my friends,
shall have liberated us from the hands which have so long held us down
in chains; from the hands which have torn from our arms, our property,
our brothers, our children--then will his spirit rejoice, then will
his shade be satisfied. Yes, in that blessed hour of our freedom the
Archbishop will extend his sacred and free hand, and pronounce a
blessing over his venerated tomb; the young warrior sheathing his
sword, red with the blood of his tyrannical oppressors, will strew it
with laurel; the statesman will consecrate it with his oratory; and
the poet, resting upon the marble, will become doubly inspired; the
virgins of Greece (whose beauty our illustrious fellow-citizen Byron
has celebrated in many of his poems), without any longer fearing
contamination from the rapacious hands of our oppressors, crowning
their heads with garlands, will dance round it, and sing of the beauty
of our land, which the poet of our age has already commemorated with
such grace and truth. But what sorrowful thought now presses upon my
mind! My fancy has carried me away; I had pictured to myself all that
my heart could have desired; I had imagined the blessing of our
Bishops, the hymns, and laurel crowns, and the dance of the virgins of
Greece round the tomb of the benefactor of Greece;--but this tomb will
not contain his precious remains; the tomb will remain void; but a few
days more will his body remain on the face of our land--of his new
chosen country; it cannot be given over to our arms; it must be borne
to his own native land, which is honoured by his birth.
'Oh daughter! most dearly beloved by him, your arms will receive him;
your tears will bathe the tomb which shall contain his body; and the
tears of the orphans of Greece will be shed over the urn containing
his precious heart, and over all the land of Greece, for all the land
of Greece is his tomb. As in the last moments of his life you and
Greece were alone in his heart and upon his lips, it was but just that
she (Greece) should retain a share of the precious remains.
Missolonghi, his country, will ever watch over and protect with all
her strength the urn containing his venerated heart, as a symbol of
his love towards us. All Greece, clothed in mourning and inconsolable,
accompanies the procession in which it is borne; all ecclesiastical,
civil, and military honours attend it; all his fellow-citizens of
Missolonghi and fellow-countrymen of Greece follow it, crowning it
with their gratitude and bedewing it with their tears; it is blessed
by the pious benedictions and prayers of our Archbishop, Bishop, and
all our clergy. Learn, noble lady, learn that chieftains bore it on
their shoulders, and carried it to the church; thousands of Greek
soldiers lined the way through which it passed, with the muzzles of
their muskets, which had destroyed so many tyrants, pointed towards
the ground, as though they would war against that earth which was to
deprive them for ever of the sight of their benefactor;--all this
crowd of soldiers, ready at a moment to march against the implacable
enemy of Christ and man, surrounded the funeral couch, and swore never
to forget the sacrifices made by your father for us, and never to
allow the spot where his heart is placed to be trampled upon by
barbarous and tyrannical feet. Thousands of Christian voices were in a
moment heard, and the temple of the Almighty resounded with
supplications and prayers that his venerated remains might be safely
conveyed to his native land, and that his soul might repose where the
righteous alone find rest.'
* * * * *
'When the funeral service was over,' says Gamba, 'we left the bier in
the middle of the church, where it remained until the evening of the
next day, guarded by a detachment of his own brigade. The church was
crowded without cessation by those who came to honour and to regret
the benefactor of Greece.
'On the evening of the 23rd the bier was privately carried back by
Byron's officers to his own house. The coffin was not closed until the
29th April.
'Immediately after death Byron's countenance had an air of calmness,
mingled with a severity that seemed gradually to soften. When I took a
last look at him, the expression, at least to my eyes, was truly
sublime.'
Soon after death, Byron's body was embalmed, and a report of the autopsy
will be found in the Appendix.
Millingen says:
'Before we proceeded to embalm the body, we could not refrain from
pausing to contemplate the lifeless clay of one who, but a few days
before, was the hope of a whole nation, and the admiration of the
civilized world. We could not but admire the perfect symmetry of his
body. Nothing could surpass the beauty of his forehead; its height was
extraordinary, and the protuberances under which the nobler
intellectual faculties are supposed to reside were strongly
pronounced. His hair, which curled naturally, was quite grey; the
mustachios light-coloured. His physiognomy had suffered little
alteration, and still preserved the sarcastic, haughty expression
which habitually characterized it. The chest was broad, high-vaulted;
the waist very small; the muscular system well pronounced; the skin
delicate and white; and the habit of the body plump. The only blemish
of his body, which might otherwise have vied with that of Apollo
himself, was the congenital malconformation of his _left_ foot and
leg. The foot was deformed and turned inwards, and the leg was smaller
and shorter than the sound one.'[25]
Trelawny arrived at Missolonghi on April 24, after the body had been
embalmed. He states that Byron's right leg was shorter than the other, and
the _right_ foot was the most distorted, being twisted inwards, so that
only the edge could have touched the ground. The discrepancy between
Trelawny's statement and that of Millingen is probably due to the fact
that nearly thirty-four years had passed before Trelawny's book was
written.
Trelawny wrote, from Fletcher's dictation, full particulars of Byron's
last illness and death. It is presumably from these notes that Trelawny
drafted his letter to Colonel Stanhope, dated April 28, 1814. In reference
to that letter, Gamba says:
'The details there given of Lord Byron's last illness and death are
not quite correct. But where Mr. Trelawny speaks of the general
impression produced by that lamentable event, he pathetically
describes what is recognized for truth by all those who were witnesses
of the melancholy scene.'
As Trelawny was not present during the illness and death of Byron, he
cannot be held responsible for any inaccuracies that may appear in his
'Records.' He merely wrote from Fletcher's dictation, without adding one
word of his own.
On Fletcher's return to England, he gave the following evidence:
'My master continued his usual custom of riding daily, when the
weather would permit, until the 9th of April. But on that ill-fated
day he got very wet, and on his return home his lordship changed the
whole of his dress; but he had been too long in his wet clothes, and
the cold, of which he had complained more or less ever since we left
Cephalonia, made this attack be more severely felt. Though rather
feverish during the night, his lordship slept pretty well, but
complained in the morning of a pain in his bones and a headache: this
did not, however, prevent him from taking a ride in the afternoon,
which, I grieve to say, was his last. On his return, my master said
that the saddle was not perfectly dry, from being so wet the day
before, and observed that he thought it had made him worse. His
lordship was again visited by the same slow fever, and I was sorry to
perceive, on the next morning, that his illness appeared to be
increasing. He was very low, and complained of not having had any
sleep during the night. His lordship's appetite was also quite gone. I
prepared a little arrowroot, of which he took three or four spoonfuls,
saying it was very good, but could take no more. It was not till the
third day, the 12th, that I began to be alarmed for my master. In all
his former colds he always slept well, and was never affected by this
slow fever. I therefore went to Dr. Bruno and Mr. Millingen, the two
medical attendants, and inquired minutely into every circumstance
connected with my master's present illness: both replied that there
was no danger, and I might make myself perfectly easy on the subject,
for all would be well in a few days. This was on the 13th. On the
following day I found my master in such a state, that I could not feel
happy without supplicating that he would send to Zante for Dr. Thomas.
After expressing my fears lest his lordship should get worse, he
desired me to consult the doctors; which I did, and was told there was
no occasion for calling in any person, as they hoped all would be well
in a few days. Here I should remark that his lordship repeatedly said,
in the course of the day, he was sure the doctors did not understand
his disease; to which I answered, "Then, my lord, have other advice,
by all means." "They tell me," said his lordship, "that it is only a
common cold, which, you know, I have had a thousand times." "I am
sure, my lord," said I, "that you never had one of so serious a
nature." "I think I never had," was his lordship's answer. I repeated
my supplications that Dr. Thomas should be sent for on the 15th, and
was again assured that my master would be better in two or three days.
After these confident assurances, I did not renew my entreaties until
it was too late.
'With respect to the medicines that were given to my master, I could
not persuade myself that those of a strong purgative nature were the
best adapted for his complaint, concluding that, as he had nothing on
his stomach, the only effect would be to create pain: indeed, this
must have been the case with a person in perfect health. The whole
nourishment taken by my master, for the last eight days, consisted of
a small quantity of broth at two or three different times, and two
spoonfuls of arrowroot on the 18th, the day before his death. The
first time I heard of there being any intention of bleeding his
lordship was on the 15th, when it was proposed by Dr. Bruno, but
objected to at first by my master, who asked Mr. Millingen if there
was any very great reason for taking blood. The latter replied that it
might be of service, but added that it could be deferred till the next
day; and accordingly my master was bled in the right arm on the
evening of the 16th, and a pound of blood was taken. I observed at the
time that it had a most inflamed appearance. Dr. Bruno now began to
say he had frequently urged my master to be bled, but that he always
refused. A long dispute now arose about the time that had been lost,
and the necessity of sending for medical assistance to Zante; upon
which I was informed, for the first time, that it would be of no use,
as my master would be better, or no more, before the arrival of Dr.
Thomas. His lordship continued to get worse: but Dr. Bruno said he
thought letting blood again would save his life; and I lost no time in
telling my master how necessary it was to comply with the doctor's
wishes. To this he replied by saying he feared they knew nothing about
his disorder; and then, stretching out his arm, said, "Here, take my
arm, and do whatever you like." His lordship continued to get weaker;
and on the 17th he was bled twice in the morning, and at two o'clock
in the afternoon. The bleeding at both times was followed by fainting
fits, and he would have fallen down more than once had I not caught
him in my arms. In order to prevent such an accident, I took care not
to let his lordship stir without supporting him. On this day my master
said to me twice, "I cannot sleep, and you well know I have not been
able to sleep for more than a week: I know," added his lordship, "that
a man can only be a certain time without sleep, and then he must go
mad, without anyone being able to save him; and I would ten times
sooner shoot myself than be mad, for I am not afraid of dying--I am
more fit to die than people think." I do not, however, believe that
his lordship had any apprehension of his fate till the day after, the
18th, when he said, "I fear you and Tita will be ill by sitting up
constantly night and day." I answered, "We shall never leave your
lordship till you are better." As my master had a slight fit of
delirium on the 16th, I took care to remove the pistols and stiletto
which had hitherto been kept at his bedside in the night. On the 18th
his lordship addressed me frequently, and seemed to be very much
dissatisfied with his medical treatment. I then said, "Do allow me to
send for Dr. Thomas," to which he answered, "Do so, but be quick. I am
sorry I did not let you do so before, as I am sure they have mistaken
my disease. Write yourself, for I know they would not like to see
other doctors here."
'I did not lose a moment in obeying my master's orders; and on
informing Dr. Bruno and Mr. Millingen of it, they said it was very
right, as they now began to be afraid themselves. On returning to my
master's room, his first words were, "Have you sent?" "I have, my
lord," was my answer; upon which he said, "You have done right, for I
should like to know what is the matter with me." Although his lordship
did not appear to think his dissolution was so near, I could perceive
he was getting weaker every hour, and he even began to have occasional
fits of delirium. He afterwards said, "I now begin to think I am
seriously ill; and, in case I should be taken off suddenly, I wish to
give you several directions, which I hope you will be particular in
seeing executed." I answered I would, in case such an event came to
pass, but expressed a hope that he would live many years to execute
them much better himself than I could. To this my master replied, "No,
it is now nearly over," and then added, "I must tell you all without
losing a moment." I then said, "Shall I go, my lord, and fetch pen,
ink, and paper?" "Oh, my God! no, you will lose too much time; and I
have it not to spare, for my time is now short," said his Lordship;
and immediately after, "Now, pay attention." His lordship commenced by
saying, "You will be provided for." I begged him, however, to proceed
with things of more consequence. He then continued, "Oh, my poor dear
child!--my dear Ada! My God! could I but have seen her! Give her my
blessing--and my dear sister Augusta and her children;--and you will
go to Lady Byron, and say--tell her everything;--you are friends with
her." His lordship appeared to be greatly affected at this moment.
Here my master's voice failed him, so that I could only catch a word
at intervals; but he kept muttering something very seriously for some
time, and would often raise his voice and say, "Fletcher, now, if you
do not execute every order which I have given you, I will torment you
hereafter if possible." Here I told his lordship, in a state of the
greatest perplexity, that I had not understood a word of what he said;
to which he replied, "Oh, my God! then all is lost, for it is now too
late! Can it be possible you have not understood me?" "No, my lord,"
said I, "but I pray you to try and inform me once more." "How can I?"
rejoined my master; "it is now too late, and all is over!" I said,
"Not our will, but God's be done!" and he answered, "Yes, not mine be
done--but I will try." His lordship did indeed make several efforts to
speak, but could only repeat two or three words at a time, such as "My
wife! my child! my sister! You know all--you must say all--you know my
wishes." The rest was quite unintelligible.
'A consultation was now held about noon, when it was determined to
administer some Peruvian bark and wine. My master had now been nine
days without any sustenance whatever, except what I have already
mentioned. With the exception of a few words which can only interest
those to whom they were addressed, and which, if required, I shall
communicate to themselves, it was impossible to understand anything
his lordship said after taking the bark. He expressed a wish to sleep.
I at one time asked whether I should call Mr. Parry; to which he
replied, "Yes, you may call him." Mr. Parry desired him to compose
himself. He shed tears, and apparently sunk into a slumber. Mr. Parry
went away, expecting to find him refreshed on his return; but it was
the commencement of the lethargy preceding his death. The last words I
heard my master utter were at six o'clock on the evening of the 18th,
when he said, "I must sleep now"; upon which he laid down never to
rise again!--for he did not move hand or foot during the following
twenty-four hours. His lordship appeared, however, to be in a state of
suffocation at intervals, and had a frequent rattling in the throat.
On these occasions I called Tita to assist me in raising his head,
and I thought he seemed to get quite stiff. The rattling and choking
in the throat took place every half-hour; and we continued to raise
his head whenever the fit came on, till six o'clock in the evening of
the 19th, when I saw my master open his eyes and then shut them, but
without showing any symptom of pain, or moving hand or foot. "Oh, my
God!" I exclaimed, "I fear his lordship is gone." The doctors then
felt his pulse, and said, "You are right--he is gone."'
Dr. Bruno's answer to the above statement will be found in the Appendix.