"Missolonghi, January 19. 1824.
"Since I wrote on the 17th, I have received a letter from Mr.
Stevens, enclosing an account from Corfu, which is so exaggerated in
price and quantity, that I am at a loss whether most to admire
Gamba's folly, or the merchant's knavery. All that _I_ requested
Gamba to order was red cloth enough to make a _jacket_, and some
oil-skin for trowsers, &c.--the latter has not been sent--the whole
could not have amounted to fifty dollars. The account is six hundred
and forty-five!!! I will guarantee Mr. Stevens against any loss, of
course, but I am not disposed to take the articles (which I never
ordered), nor to pay the amount. I will take one hundred dollars'
worth; the rest may be sent back, and I will make the merchant an
allowance of so much per-cent.; or, if that is not to be done, you
must sell the whole by auction at what price the things may fetch;
for I would rather incur the dead loss of _part_, than be encumbered
with a quantity of things, to me at present superfluous or useless.
Why, I could have maintained three hundred men for a month for the
sum in Western Greece.
"When the dogs, and the dollars, and the negro; and the horses, fell
into the hands of the Turks, I acquiesced with patience, as you may
have perceived, because it was the work of the elements of war, or of
Providence: but this is a piece of mere human knavery or folly, or
both, and I neither can nor will submit to it.[1] I have occasion for
every dollar I can muster to keep the Greeks together, and I do not
grudge any expense for the cause; but to throw away as much as would
equip, or at least maintain, a corps of excellent ragamuffins with
arms in their hands, to furnish Gamba and the Doctor with blank bills
(see list), broad cloth, Hessian boots, and horsewhips (the _latter_
I own that they have richly earned), is rather beyond my endurance,
though a pacific person, as all the world knows, or at least my
acquaintances. I pray you to try to help me out of this damnable
commercial speculation of Gamba's, for it is one of those pieces of
impudence or folly which I don't forgive him in a hurry. I will of
course see Stevens free of expense out of the transaction;--by the
way, the Greek of a Corfiote has thought proper to draw a bill, and
get it discounted at 24 dollars: if I had been there, it should have
been _protested_ also.
[Footnote 1: We have here as striking an instance as could be adduced
of that peculiar feature of his character which shallow or malicious
observers have misrepresented as avarice, but which in reality was
the result of a strong sense of justice and fairness, and an
indignant impatience of being stultified or over-reached. Colonel
Stanhope, in referring to the circumstance mentioned above, has put
Lord Byron's angry feeling respecting it in the true light.
"He was constantly attacking Count Gamba, sometimes, indeed,
playfully, but more often with the bitterest satire, for having
purchased for the use of his family, while in Greece, _500_ dollars'
worth of cloth. This he used to mention as an instance of the Count's
imprudence and extravagance. Lord Byron told me one day, with a tone
of great gravity, that this 500 dollars would have been most
serviceable in promoting the siege of Lepanto; and that he never
would, to the last moment of his existence, forgive Gamba, for having
squandered away his money in the purchase of cloth. No one will
suppose that Lord Byron could be serious in such a denunciation: he
entertained, in reality, the highest opinion of Conant Gamba, who,
both on account of his talents and devotedness to his friend, merited
his Lordship's esteem. As to Lord Byron's generosity, it is before
the world; he promised to devote his large income to the cause of
Greece, and he honestly acted up to his pledge."]
"Mr. Blackett is here ill, and will soon set out for Cephalonia. He
came to me for some pills, and I gave him some reserved for
particular friends, and which I never knew any body recover from
under several months; but he is no better, and, what is odd, no
worse; and as the doctors have had no better success with him than I,
he goes to Argostoli, sick of the Greeks and of a constipation.
"I must reiterate my request for _specie_, and that speedily,
otherwise public affairs will be at a standstill here. I have
undertaken to pay the Suliotes for a year, to advance in March 3000
dollars, besides, to the Government for a balance due to the troops,
and some other smaller matters for the Germans, and the press, &c.
&c. &c.; so what with these, and the expenses of my suite, which,
though not extravagant, is expensive, with Gamba's d--d nonsense, I
shall have occasion for all the monies I can muster; and I have
credits wherewithal to face the undertakings, if realised, and expect
to have more soon.
"Believe me ever and truly yours," &c.
On the morning of the 22d of January, his birthday,--the last my poor
friend was ever fated to see,--he came from his bedroom into the
apartment where Colonel Stanhope and some others were assembled, 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 to them those beautiful stanzas, which, though already
known to most readers, are far too affectingly associated with this
closing scene of his life to be omitted among its details. Taking
into consideration, indeed, every thing connected with these
verses,--the last tender aspirations of a loving spirit which they
breathe, the self-devotion to a noble cause which they so nobly
express, and that consciousness of a near grave glimmering sadly
through the whole,--there is perhaps no production within the range
of mere human composition round which the circumstances and feelings
under which it was written cast so touching an interest.
"JANUARY 22D.
"ON THIS DAY I COMPLETE MY THIRTY-SIXTH YEAR.
1.
"'Tis time this heart should be unmoved,
Since others it hath ceased to move;
Yet though I cannot be beloved,
Still let me love!
2.
"My days are in the yellow leaf;
The flowers and fruits of love are gone;
The worm, the canker, and the grief
Are mine alone!
3.
"The fire that on my bosom preys
Is lone as some volcanic isle;
No torch is kindled at its blaze--
A funeral pile!
4.
"The hope, the fear, the jealous care,
The exalted portion of the pain
And power of love, I cannot share,
But wear the chain.
5.
"But 'tis not _thus_--and 'tis not _here_--
Such thoughts should shake my soul, nor _now_,
Where glory decks the hero's bier,
Or binds his brow.
6.
"The sword, the banner, and the field,
Glory and Greece, around roe see!
The Spartan, borne upon his shield,
Was not more free.
7.
"Awake! (not Greece--she _is_ awake!)
Awake, my spirit! Think through _whom_
Thy life-blood tracks its parent lake,
And then strike home!
8.
"Tread those reviving passions down,
Unworthy manhood!--unto thee
Indifferent should the smile or frown
Of beauty be.
9.
"If thou regret'st thy youth, _why live_?
The land of honourable death
Is here:--up to the field, and give
Away thy breath!
10.
"Seek out--less often sought than found--
A soldier's grave, for thee the best;
Then look around, and choose thy ground,--
And take thy rest."
"We perceived," says Count Gamba, "from these lines, 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_.' The same
determination was expressed in his letters to his friends; and this
resolution was not unaccompanied with the very 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.'"