Byron: The Last Phase

Colonel Stanhope could not understand Byron’s bantering moods. They seemed to him to be entirely out of place. The more Byron laughed and joked, the more serious Stanhope became, and their discussions seldom ended without a strong reproof, which irritated Byron for the moment. But so far from leaving any unfavourable impression on Byron’s mind, it increased his regard for an antagonist of such evident sincerity:

‘When parting from him one evening, after a discussion of this nature, Lord Byron went up to him, and exclaimed: “Give me that honest right hand.” Two such men were worthy of being friends, and it is to be regretted that an injudicious champion of the one should, by a partial detail of their trifling differences, try to raise him at the expense of the other.’

With the money provided by Byron, Colonel Stanhope’s pet scheme, the Greek Chronicle, printed in Greek type, came into being. Its editor, ‘a hot-headed republican’ named Jean Jacques Meyer, who had been a Swiss doctor, was particularly unfitted for the post, and soon came to loggerheads with Byron for publishing a violent attack on the Austrian Government. In a letter to Samuel Barff, Byron says:

‘From the very first I foretold to Colonel Stanhope and to Prince Mavrocordato that a Greek newspaper (as indeed any other), in the present state of Greece, might and probably would lead to much mischief and misconstruction, unless under some restrictions; nor have I ever had anything to do with it, as a writer or otherwise, except as a pecuniary contributor to its support in the outset, which I could not refuse to the earnest request of the projectors. Colonel Stanhope and myself had considerable differences of opinion on this subject, and (what will appear laughable enough) to such a degree that he charged me with despotic principles, and I him with ultra-radicalism. Dr. Meyer, the Editor, with his unrestrained freedom of the press, and who has the freedom to exercise an unlimited discretion – not allowing any articles but his own and those like them to appear – and in declaiming against restrictions, cuts, carves, and restricts, at his own will and pleasure. He is the author of an article against Monarchy, of which he may have the advantage and fame – but they (the Editors) will get themselves into a scrape, if they do not take care. Of all petty tyrants, he (Meyer) is one of the pettiest, as are most demagogues that ever I knew. He is a Swiss by birth, and a Greek by assumption, having married a wife and changed his religion.’

On the appearance of Meyer’s stupid attack on monarchy, Byron immediately suppressed the whole edition.

Early in March the prospectus of a polyglot newspaper, entitled the Greek Telegraph, was published at Missolonghi. Millingen says:

‘The sentiments imprudently advocated in this prospectus induced the British authorities in the Ionian Islands to entertain so unfavourable an impression of the spirit which would guide its conductors, that its admission into the heptarchy was interdicted under severe penalties. The same took place in the Austrian States, where they began to look upon Greece as “the city of refuge,” as it were, for the Carbonari and discontented English reformers. The first number appeared on 20th March; but it was written in a tone so opposite to what had been expected, that it might, in some degree, be considered as a protest against its prospectus. Lord Byron was the cause of this change. More than ever convinced that nothing could be more useless, and even more dangerous, to the interests of Greece, both at home and abroad, than an unlimited freedom of the press, he insisted on Count Gamba becoming Editor. Byron cautioned him to restrict the paper to a simple narrative of events as they occurred, and an unprejudiced statement of opinions in respect to political relations and wants, so as to make them subjects of interest to the friends of Greece in the western parts of Europe.’

Gamba says:

‘Lord Byron’s view of the politics of Greece was, that this revolution had little or nothing in common with the great struggles with which Europe had been for thirty years distracted, and that it would be most foolish for the friends of Greece to mix up their cause with that of other nations, who had attempted to change their form of government, and by so doing to draw down the hatred and opposition of one of the two great parties that at present divide the civilized world. Lord Byron’s wish was to show that the contest was simply one between barbarism and civilization – between Christianity and Islamism – and that the struggle was on behalf of the descendants of those to whom we are indebted for the first principles of science and the most perfect models of literature and art. For such a cause he hoped that all politicians of all parties, in every European State, might fairly be expected to unite.’

Byron believed that the moment had arrived for uniting the Greeks; the approach of danger and the chance of succour seemed favourable to his designs.

‘To be in time to defend ourselves,’ said Byron, ‘we have only to put in action and unite all the means the Greeks possess; with money we have experienced the facility of raising troops. I cannot calculate to what a height Greece may rise.

‘Hitherto it has been a subject for the hymns and elegies of fanatics and enthusiasts; but now it will draw the attention of the politician.’

Early in February, 1824, Colonel Stanhope proposed to go into the Morea, in order to co-operate in the great work of appeasing the discords of that country. Prince Mavrocordato wrote privately to Sir Thomas Maitland19 in the hope of averting trouble consequent upon the infraction of the neutrality of the Ionian territory at Ithaca. Lord Byron forwarded his letter to Lord Sidney Osborne.20 with the following explanation:

‘Enclosed is a private communication from Prince Mavrocordato to Sir Thomas Maitland, which you will oblige me much by delivering. Sir Thomas can take as much or as little of it as he pleases; but I hope and believe that it is rather calculated to conciliate than to irritate on the subject of the late event near Ithaca and Sta Mauro, which there is every disposition on the part of the Government here to disavow; and they are also disposed to give every satisfaction in their power. You must all be persuaded how difficult it is, under existing circumstances, for the Greeks to keep up discipline, however they may all be disposed to do so. I am doing all I can to convince them of the necessity of the strictest observance of the regulations of the island, and, I trust, with some effect. I was received here with every possible public and private mark of respect. If you write to any of our friends, you can say that I am in good health and spirits; and that I shall stick by the cause as long as a man of honour can, without sparing purse, and (I hope, if need be) person.’

This letter is dated from Missolonghi, February 9, 1824. On February 11 Byron heard the news of the death of Sir Thomas Maitland. Parry says:

‘The news certainly caused considerable satisfaction among the Greeks, and among some of the English. He was generally looked on by them as the great enemy of their cause; but there is no proof of this. I know that his government has been very much censured in England, and far be it from me to approve of the arbitrary or despotic measures of any man; but those who know anything of the people he had to deal with will find, in their character, an excuse for his conduct. I believe, in general, his government was well calculated for his subjects.’

Parry throws light upon Byron’s attitude towards Mavrocordato, to which we alluded in a previous chapter.

‘I took an opportunity, one evening, of asking Lord Byron what he thought of Prince Mavrocordato. He replied he considered him an honest man and a man of talent. He had shown his devotion to his country’s service by expending his private fortune in its cause, and was probably the most capable and trustworthy of all the Greek chieftains. Lord Byron said that he agreed with Mavrocordato, that Missolonghi and its dependencies were of the greatest importance to Greece; and as long as the Prince acted as he had done, he would give him all the support in his power. Lord Byron seemed, at the same time, to suppose that a little more energy and industry in the Prince, with a disposition to make fewer promises, would tend much to his advantage.’

The following incident, related by Parry, seems to fall naturally into this part of our narrative:

‘When the Turkish fleet was blockading Missolonghi, I was one day ordered by Lord Byron to accompany him to the mouth of the harbour to inspect the fortifications, in order to make a report of the state they were in. He and I were in his own punt, a little boat which he had, rowed by a boy; and in a large boat, accompanying us, were Prince Mavrocordato and his attendants. As I was viewing, on one hand, the Turkish fleet attentively, and reflecting on its powers, and our means of defence; and looking, on the other, at Prince Mavrocordato and his attendants, perfectly unconcerned, smoking their pipes and gossiping, as if Greece were liberated and at peace, and Missolonghi in a state of perfect security, I could not help giving vent to a feeling of contempt and indignation.

‘“What is the matter?” said Lord Byron, appearing to be very serious; “what makes you so angry, Parry?”

‘“I am not angry, my lord,” I replied, “but somewhat indignant. The Turks, if they were not the most stupid wretches breathing, might take the fort of Vasaladi, by means of two pinnaces, any night they pleased; they have only to approach it with muffled oars, they would not be heard, I will answer for their not being seen, and they may storm it in a few minutes. With eight gunboats properly armed with 24-pounders, they might batter both Missolonghi and Anatolica to the ground. And there sits the old gentlewoman, Prince Mavrocordato and his troop, to whom I applied an epithet I will not here repeat, as if they were all perfectly safe. They know that their means of defence are inadequate, and they have no means of improving them. If I were in their place, I should be in a fever at the thought of my own incapacity and ignorance, and I should burn with impatience to attempt the destruction of those stupid Turkish rascals. The Greeks and the Turks are opponents, worthy by their imbecility of each other.”

‘I had scarcely explained myself fully, when Lord Byron ordered our boat to be placed alongside the other, and actually related our whole conversation to the Prince. In doing it, however, he took upon himself the task of pacifying both the Prince and me, and though I was at first very angry, and the Prince, I believe, very much annoyed, he succeeded. It was, in fact, only Lord Byron’s manner of reproving us both. It taught me to be prudent and discreet. To the Prince and the Greeks it probably conveyed a lesson, which Lord Byron could have found no better means of giving them.’

Byron was remarkably sincere and frank in all his words and actions. Parry says that he never harboured a thought concerning another man that he did not express to his face; neither could he bear duplicity in others. If one person were to speak against a third party, in Byron’s presence, he would be sure to repeat it the first time the two opponents were in presence of one another. This was a habit, says Parry, of which his acquaintance were well aware, and it spared Byron the trouble of listening to many idle and degrading calumnies. He probably expected thereby to teach others a sincerity which he so highly prized; but it must be added that he derived pleasure from witnessing the confusion of the person thus exposed. We recognize Byron in this trait, as none of his biographers have omitted to mention the extraordinary indiscretion of his confidences; but never before was his habit of ‘blabbing’ turned to a better use.

It is generally admitted that the Greeks were supine to the last degree. Little or nothing had been done to repair the losses resulting from the late campaign, nor had adequate preparations been made for the struggle in prospect. Through their improvidence, the Greeks had neither money nor materials. Neither in the Morea nor in Western Greece had any steps been taken to meet an assault by the enemy. The fortifications, that had suffered in the previous campaign, were left in statu quo. The Greek fleet was practically non-existent, owing to the insufficiency of money wherewith to pay the crews. In addition to internal dissensions, which might at any moment give rise to a civil war, the French and English Governments were continually demanding satisfaction for breaches of neutrality, or for acts of piracy committed by vessels of the Greek fleet, under a singular misapprehension of the game of war. In the midst of all these depressing conditions Byron kept his intense enthusiasm for the cause, and whatever may have been the errors in his policy, everyone acknowledged the purity of his motives and the intensity of his zeal.

Prince Mavrocordato and Colonel Stanhope were not on very good terms. The Colonel had no confidence in the Prince, and, indeed, openly defied and opposed him. His hostility to Mavrocordato became so marked that both Greeks and English were persuaded that he was endeavouring to break up the establishment at Missolonghi, and to remove all the stores, belonging to the Committee, to Athens.

‘This report,’ says Parry, ‘was conveyed to Lord Byron, who had not parted with Colonel Stanhope on very good terms, and caused him much annoyance. He had before attributed both neglect and deceit to the Greek Committee or some of its agents; and this report of the proceedings of their special and chosen messenger made him, in the irritation of the moment, regard them as acting even treacherously towards himself. “By the cant of religious pretenders,” he said, “I have already deeply suffered, and now I know what the cant of pretended reformers and philanthropists amounts to.”’

Byron was much displeased by the neglect which he had experienced at the hands of the London Committee, who, instead of sending supplies that would have been of some use, sent printing-presses, maps, and bugles. Books and Bibles were sent to a people who wanted guns, and when they asked for a sword they sent the lever of a printing-press. The only wonder was that they did not send out a pack of beagles. Colonel Stanhope, who might perhaps have been of some use in a military capacity, began organizing the whole country in accordance with Mr. Bentham’s views of morality and justice. In this he acted entirely on his own responsibility, and rarely consulted Byron or Mavrocordato before carrying his wild schemes into execution. Byron said of him, in a moment of exasperation:

‘He is a mere schemer and talker, more of a saint than a soldier; and, with a great deal of pretended plainness, a mere politician, and no patriot. I thought Colonel Stanhope, being a soldier, would have shown himself differently. He ought to know what a nation like Greece needs for its defence; and should have told the Committee that arms, and the materials for carrying on war, were what the Greeks required.’

Byron placed practice before precept, and was content to wait until the Turks had been driven out of Greece before entering upon any scheme for the cultivation of the soil and the development of commerce. He always maintained that Colonel Stanhope began at the wrong end, and was foolish to expect, by introducing some signs of wealth and knowledge, to make the people of Greece both rich and intelligent.

‘I hear,’ said Byron, in a conversation with Parry, ‘that missionaries are to be introduced before the country is cleared of the enemy, and religious disputes are to be added to the other sources of discord. How very improper are such proceedings! nothing could be more impolitic; it will cause ill blood throughout the country, and very possibly be the means of again bringing Greece under the Turkish yoke. Can it be supposed that the Greek Priesthood, who have great influence, and even power, will tamely submit to see interested self-opinionated foreigners interfere with their flocks? I say again, clear the country, teach the people to read and write, and the labouring people will judge for themselves.’

The vexations to which Byron was daily subjected during his stay at Missolonghi, and the insufficiency of the diet which he prescribed for himself against the advice of his medical attendant, so affected his nervous system, which by nature was highly irritable, that at last he broke down. Count Gamba says:

‘Lord Byron was exceedingly vexed at the necessary abandonment of his project against Lepanto, at a time when success seemed so probable. He had not been able to ride that day, nor for some days, on account of the rain. He had been extremely annoyed at the vexations caused by the Suliotes, as also with the various other interruptions from petitions, demands, and remonstrances, which never left him a moment’s peace at any hour of the day. At seven in the evening I went into his room on some business, and found him lying on the sofa: he was not asleep, and, seeing me enter, called out, “I am not asleep – come in – I am not well.” At eight o’clock he went downstairs to visit Colonel Stanhope. The conversation turned upon our newspaper. We agreed that it was not calculated to give foreigners the necessary intelligence of what was passing in Greece; because, being written in Romaic, it was not intelligible, except to a few strangers. We resolved to publish another, in several languages, and Lord Byron promised to furnish some articles himself. When I left the room, he was laughing and joking with Parry and the Colonel; he was drinking some cider.’

As Gamba is no longer a witness of what actually happened, we refer the reader to the statement of Parry himself:

‘Lord Byron’s quarters were on the second-floor of the house, and Colonel Stanhope lived on the first-floor. In the evening, about eight o’clock, Lord Byron came downstairs into the Colonel’s room where I was. He seated himself on a cane settee, and began talking with me on various subjects. Colonel Stanhope, who was employed in a neighbouring apartment, fitting up printing-presses, and Count Gamba, both came into the room for a short time, and some conversation ensued about the newspaper, which was never to Lord Byron a pleasant topic, as he disagreed with his friends about it. After a little time they went their several ways, and more agreeable subjects were introduced. Lord Byron began joking with me about Colonel Stanhope’s occupations, and said he thought the author would have his brigade of artillery ready before the soldier got his printing-press fixed. There was then nobody in the room but his lordship, Mr. Hesketh, and myself. There was evidently a constrained manner about Lord Byron, and he complained of thirst. He ordered his servant to bring him some cider, which I entreated him not to drink in that state. There was a flush in his countenance, which seemed to indicate great nervous agitation; and as I thought Lord Byron had been much agitated and harassed for several days past, I recommended him, at least, to qualify his cider with some brandy. He said he had frequently drunk cider, and felt no bad consequences from it, and he accordingly drank it off. He had scarcely drunk the cider, when he complained of a very strange sensation, and I noticed a great change in his countenance. He rose from his seat, but could not walk, staggered a step or two, and fell into my arms.

‘I had no other stimulant than brandy at hand, and having before seen it administered in similar cases with considerable benefit, I succeeded in making him swallow a small quantity. In another minute his teeth were closed, his speech and senses gone, and he was in strong convulsions. I laid him down on the settee, and with the assistance of his servant kept him quiet.

‘When he fell into my arms, his countenance was very much distorted, his mouth being drawn on one side. After a short time his medical attendant came, and he speedily recovered his senses and his speech. He asked for Colonel Stanhope, as he had something particular to say to him, should there be a probability of his not recovering. Colonel Stanhope came from the next room. On recovering his senses, Lord Byron’s countenance assumed its ordinary appearance, except that it was pale and haggard. No other effect remained visible except great weakness.’

According to Gamba:

‘Lord Byron was carried upstairs to his own bed, and complained only of weakness. He asked whether his attack was likely to prove fatal. “Let me know,” he said. “Do not think I am afraid to die – I am not.” He told me that when he lost his speech he did not lose his senses; that he had suffered great pain, and that he believed, if the convulsion had lasted a minute longer, he must have died.’

The attack had been brought on by the vexations which he had long suffered in silence, and borne heroically. But his mode of living was a contributory cause. He ate nothing but fish, cheese, and vegetables – having regulated his table, says Gamba, so as not to cost more than 45 paras. This he did to show that he could live on fare as simple as that of the Greek soldiers.

Byron had scarcely recovered consciousness, when a false alarm was brought to him that the Suliotes had risen, and were about to attack the building where the arms were stored.

‘We ran to our arsenal,’ says Gamba, ‘Parry ordered the artillerymen under arms: our cannon were loaded and pointed on the approaches to the gates; the sentries were doubled. This alarm had originated with two Germans, who, having taken too much wine, and seeing a body of soldiers with their guns in their hands proceeding towards the Seraglio, thought that a revolution had broken out, and spread an alarm over the whole town. As a matter of fact, these troops were merely changing their quarters. These Germans were so inconsiderate, that during our absence at the arsenal they forced their way into Byron’s bedroom, swearing that they had come to defend him and his house. Fortunately, we were not present, for, as this was only half an hour after Byron’s attack, we should have been tempted to fling the intruders out of the window. On the following day Byron was better, and got up at noon; but he was very pale and weak, and complained of a sensation of weight in his head. The doctor applied eight leeches to his temples, and the blood flowed copiously; it was stopped with difficulty, and he fainted.’

Dr. Millingen says that Dr. Bruno had at first proposed opening a vein; but finding it impossible to obtain Byron’s consent, he applied leeches to the temples, which bled so copiously as almost to bring on syncope. Byron, alarmed to see the difficulty Dr. Bruno had in stopping the hæmorrhage, sent for Millingen, who, by the application of lunar caustic, succeeded in stopping the flow of blood.

In Millingen’s opinion, Byron was never the same man after this; a change took place in his mental and bodily functions.

‘That wonderful elasticity of disposition, that continual flow of wit, that facility of jest by which his conversation had been so distinguished, returned only at distant intervals,’ says Millingen: ‘from this time Byron fell into a state of melancholy from which none of our arguments could relieve him. He felt certain that his constitution had been ruined; that he was a worn-out man; and that his muscular power was gone. Flashes before his eyes, palpitations and anxieties, hourly afflicted him; and at times such a sense of faintness would overpower him, that, fearing to be attacked by similar convulsions, he would send in great haste for medical assistance. His nervous system was, in fact, in a continual state of erethism, which was certainly augmented by the low, debilitating diet which Dr. Bruno had recommended.’

On one occasion Byron said to Dr. Millingen that he did not wish for life; it had ceased to have any attraction for him.

‘But,’ said Byron, ‘the fear of two things now haunt me. I picture myself slowly expiring on a bed of torture, or ending my days like Swift – a grinning idiot! Would to Heaven the day were arrived in which, rushing, sword in hand, on a body of Turks, and fighting like one weary of existence, I shall meet immediate, painless death – the object of my wishes.’

Two days after this seizure Byron made the following entry in his journal:

‘With regard to the presumed causes of this attack, so far as I know, there might be several. The state of the place and the weather permit little exercise at present. I have been violently agitated with more than one passion recently, and amidst conflicting parties, politics, and (as far as regards public matters) circumstances. I have also been in an anxious state with regard to things which may be only interesting to my own private feelings, and, perhaps, not uniformly so temperate as I may generally affirm that I was wont to be. How far any or all of these may have acted on the mind or body of one who had already undergone many previous changes of place and passion during a life of thirty-six years, I cannot tell.’