"Cephalonia, December 27. 1823.
"I received a letter from you some time ago. I have been too much
employed latterly to write as I could wish, and even now must write
in haste.
"I embark for Missolonghi to join Mavrocordato in four-and-twenty
hours. The state of parties (but it were a long story) has kept me
here till _now_; but now that Mavrocordato (their Washington, or
their Kosciusko) is employed again, I can act with a _safe
conscience._ I carry money to pay the squadron, &c., and I have
influence with the Suliotes, _supposed _ sufficient to keep them in
harmony with some of the dissentients;--for there are plenty of
differences, but trifling.
"It is imagined that we shall attempt either Patras or the castles on
the Straits; and it seems, by most accounts, that the Greeks, at any
rate, the Suliotes, who are in affinity with me of 'bread and
salt,'--expect that I should march with them, and--be it even so! If
any thing in the way of fever, fatigue, famine, or otherwise, should
cut short the middle age of a brother warbler,--like Garcilasso de la
Vega, Kleist, Korner, Joukoffsky[1] (a Russian nightingale--see
Bowring's Anthology), or Thersander, or,--or somebody else--but never
mind--I pray you to remember me in your 'smiles and wine.'
[Footnote 1: One of the most celebrated of the living poets of
Russia, who fought at Borodino, and has commemorated that battle in a
poem of much celebrity among his countrymen.]
"I have hopes that the cause will triumph; but whether it does or no,
still 'honour must be minded as strictly as milk diet,' I trust to
observe both,
"Ever," &c.
It is hardly necessary to direct the attention of the reader to the
sad, and but too true anticipation expressed in this letter--the last
but one I was ever to receive from my friend. Before we accompany him
to the closing scene of all his toils, I shall here, as briefly as
possible, give a selection from the many characteristic anecdotes
told of him, while at Cephalonia, where (to use the words of Colonel
Stanhope, in a letter from thence to the Greek committee,) he was
"beloved by Cephalonians, by English, and by Greeks;" and where,
approached as he was familiarly by persons of all classes and
countries, not an action, not a word is recorded of him that does not
bear honourable testimony to the benevolence and soundness of his
views, his ever ready but discriminating generosity, and the clear
insight, at once minute and comprehensive, which he had acquired into
the character and wants of the people and the cause he came to serve.
"Of all those who came to help the Greeks," says Colonel Napier, (a
person himself the most qualified to judge, as well from long local
knowledge, as from the acute, straightforward cast of his own mind,)
"I never knew one, except Lord Byron and Mr. Gordon, that seemed to
have justly estimated their character. All came expecting to find the
Peloponnesus filled with Plutarch's men, and all returned thinking
the inhabitants of Newgate more moral. Lord Byron judged them fairly:
he knew that half-civilised men are full of vices, and that great
allowance must be made for emancipated slaves. He, therefore,
proceeded, bridle in hand, not thinking them good, but hoping to make
them better."[1]
[Footnote 1: A similar tribute was paid to him by Count Delladecima,
a gentleman of some literary acquirements, of whom he saw a good deal
at Cephalonia, and to whom he was attracted by that sympathy which
never failed to incline him towards those who laboured, like himself,
under any personal defects. "Of all the men," said this gentleman,
"whom I have had an opportunity of conversing with, on the means of
establishing the independence of Greece, and regenerating the
character of the natives, Lord Byron appears to entertain the most
enlightened and correct views."]
In speaking of the foolish charge of avarice brought against Lord
Byron by some who resented thus his not suffering them to impose on
his generosity, Colonel Napier says, "I never knew a single instance
of it while he was here. I saw only a judicious generosity in all
that he did. He would not allow himself to be _robbed_, but he gave
profusely where he thought he was doing good. It was, indeed, because
he would not allow himself to be _fleeced_, that he was called stingy
by those who are always bent upon giving money from any purses but
their own. Lord Byron had no idea of this; and would turn sharply and
unexpectedly on those who thought their game sure. He gave a vast
deal of money to the Greeks in various ways."
Among the objects of his bounty in this way were many poor refugee
Greeks from the Continent and the Isles. He not only relieved their
present distresses, but allotted a certain sum monthly to the most
destitute. "A list of these poor pensioners," says Dr. Kennedy, "was
given me by the nephew of Professor Bambas."
One of the instances mentioned of his humanity while at Cephalonia
will show how prompt he was at the call of that feeling, and how
unworthy, sometimes, were the objects of it. A party of workmen
employed upon one of those fine roads projected by Colonel Napier
having imprudently excavated a high bank, the earth fell in, and
overwhelmed nearly a dozen persons; the news of which accident
instantly reaching Metaxata, Lord Byron despatched his physician
Bruno to the spot, and followed with Count Gamba, as soon as their
horses could be saddled. They found a crowd of women and children
wailing round the ruins; while the workmen, who had just dug out
three or four of their maimed companions, stood resting themselves
unconcernedly, as if nothing more was required of them; and to Lord
Byron's enquiry whether there were not still some other persons below
the earth, answered coolly that "they did not know, but believed that
there were." Enraged at this brutal indifference, he sprang from his
horse, and seizing a spade himself, began to dig with all his
strength; but it was not till after being threatened with the
horsewhip that any of the peasants could be brought to follow his
example. "I was not present at this scene myself," says Colonel
Napier, in the Notices with which he has favoured me, "but was told
that Lord Byron's attention seemed quite absorbed in the study of the
faces and gesticulations of those whose friends were missing. The
sorrow of the Greeks is, in appearance, very frantic, and they shriek
and howl, as in Ireland.
It was in alluding to the above incident that the noble poet is
stated to have said that he had come out to the Islands prejudiced
against Sir T. Maitland's government of the Greeks: "but," he added,
"I have now changed my opinion. They are such barbarians, that if I
had the government of them, I would pave these very roads with them."
While residing at Metaxata, he received an account of the illness of
his daughter Ada, which "made him anxious and melancholy (says Count
Gamba) for several days." Her indisposition he understood to have
been caused by a determination of blood to the head; and on his
remarking to Dr. Kennedy, as curious, that it was a complaint to
which he himself was subject, the physician replied, that he should
have been inclined to infer so, not only from his habits of intense
and irregular study, but from the present state of his eyes,--the
right eye appearing to be inflamed. I have mentioned this latter
circumstance as perhaps justifying the inference that there was in
Lord Byron's state of health at this moment a predisposition to the
complaint of which he afterwards died. To Dr. Kennedy he spoke
frequently of his wife and daughter, expressing the Strongest
affection for the latter, and respect towards the former, and while
declaring as usual his perfect ignorance of the causes of the
separation, professing himself fully disposed to welcome any prospect
of reconcilement.
The anxiety with which, at all periods of his life, but particularly
at the present, he sought to repel the notion that, except when under
the actual inspiration of writing, he was at all influenced by
poetical associations, very frequently displayed itself. "You must
have been highly gratified (said a gentleman to him) by the classical
remains and recollections which you met with in your visit to
Ithaca."--"You quite mistake me," answered Lord Byron--"I have no
poetical humbug about me; I am too old for that. Ideas of that sort
are confined to rhyme."
For the two days during which he was delayed by contrary winds, he
took up his abode at the house of Mr. Hancock, his banker, and passed
the greater part of the time in company with the English authorities
of the Island. At length the wind becoming fair, he prepared to
embark. "I called upon him to take leave," says Dr. Kennedy, "and
found him alone, reading Quentin Durward. He was, as usual, in good
spirits." In a few hours after the party set sail,--Lord Byron
himself on board the Mistico, and Count Gamba, with the horses and
heavy baggage, in the larger vessel, or Bombarda. After touching at
Zante, for the purpose of some pecuniary arrangements with Mr. Barff,
and taking on board a considerable sum of money in specie, they, on
the evening of the 29th, proceeded towards Missolonghi. Their last
accounts from that place having represented the Turkish fleet as
still in the Gulf of Lepanto, there appeared not the slightest
grounds for apprehending any interruption in their passage. Besides,
knowing that the Greek squadron was now at anchorage near the
entrance of the Gulf, they had little doubt of soon falling in with
some friendly vessel, either in search, or waiting for them.
"We sailed together," says Count Gamba, in a highly picturesque and
affecting passage, "till after ten at night; the wind favourable--a
clear sky, the air fresh but not sharp. Our sailors sang alternately
patriotic songs, monotonous indeed, but to persons in our situation
extremely touching, and we took part in them. We were all, but Lord
Byron particularly, in excellent spirits. The Mistico sailed the
fastest. When the waves divided us, and our voices could no longer
reach each other, we made signals by firing pistols and
carabines--'To-morrow we meet at Missolonghi--to-morrow.' Thus, full
of confidence and spirits, we sailed along. At twelve we were out of
sight of each other."
In waiting for the other vessel, having more than once shortened sail
for that purpose, the party on board the Mistico were upon the point
of being surprised into an encounter which might, in a moment, have
changed the future fortunes of Lord Byron. Two or three hours before
daybreak, while steering towards Missolonghi, they found themselves
close under the stern of a large vessel, which they at first took to
be Greek, but which, when within pistol shot, they discovered to be a
Turkish frigate. By good fortune, they were themselves, as it
appears, mistaken for a Greek brulot by the Turks, who therefore
feared to fire, but with loud shouts frequently hailed them, while
those on board Lord Byron's vessel maintained the most profound
silence; and even the dogs (as I have heard his Lordship's valet
mention), though they had never ceased to bark during the whole of
the night, did not utter, while within reach of the Turkish frigate,
a sound;--a no less lucky than a curious accident, as, from the
information the Turks had received of all the particulars of his
Lordship's departure from Zante, the harking of the dogs, at that
moment, would have been almost certain to betray him. Under the
favour of these circumstances, and the darkness, they were enabled to
bear away without further molestation, and took shelter among the
Scrofes, a cluster of rocks but a few hours' sail from Missolonghi.
From this place the following letter, remarkable, considering his
situation at the moment, for the light, careless tone that pervades
it, was despatched to Colonel Stanhope.