Chapter XVI

Several days passed after the requiem service held in the Church of S. Spiridion. Meanwhile the necessary preparations were made for transporting the body to Zante. On May 2 the coffin was carried down to the seaside on the shoulders of four military chiefs, and attended in the same order as before. The guns of the fortress saluted until the moment of embarkation. The vessel which bore the body reached the island of Zante on the third day after leaving Missolonghi, having, as Gamba says, taken the same course exactly as on the voyage out. The vessel, owing to head-winds, was brought to anchor close to the same rocks where Byron had sought shelter from the Turkish frigate.

'On the evening of the 4th May,' says Gamba, 'we made the port of
Zante, and heard that Lord Sidney Osborne had arrived, but, not
finding us in that island, had sailed for Missolonghi.'

Blaquière, who was at Zante at the time, says:

'The vessel was recognized at a considerable distance, owing to her
flag being at half-mast. She entered the mole towards sunset. The body
was accompanied by the whole of his lordship's attendants, who
conveyed it to the lazaretto on the following morning.'

During the time that the body of Lord Byron was detained at the lazaretto, a discussion arose as to the final disposal of the remains, Colonel Stanhope and others being of opinion that they should be interred in the Parthenon at Athens. It would seem that such a course would have met with Byron's approval; but, in deference to what were then supposed to have been the wishes of the poet's family, it was finally arranged to charter the brig _Florida_, which had lately arrived at Zante with the first instalment of the Greek loan. In this connection, the last entry in Gamba's journal may be quoted in full:

'A few days after our arrival at Zante, Colonel Stanhope came from the
Morea. He had already written to inform us that the Greek chieftains
of Athens had expressed their desire that Lord Byron should be buried
in the Temple of Theseus. The citizens of Missolonghi had made a
similar request for their town; and we thought it advisable to accede
to their wishes so far as to leave with them, for interment, one of
the vessels containing a portion of the honoured remains. As he had
not expressed any wishes on the subject,[26] we thought the most
becoming course was to convey him to his native country. Accordingly,
the ship that had brought us the specie was engaged for that purpose.
Colonel Stanhope kindly took charge; and on the 25th May the
_Florida_, having on board the remains of Lord Byron, set sail for
England from the port of Zante.'

The following tribute to Byron from the pen of Blaquière, written on May 24, 1824, must here be given:

'Every letter of Byron's, in which any allusion was made to the Greek
cause, proved how judiciously he viewed that great question, while it
displayed a thorough knowledge of the people he had come to assist.
This latter circumstance, which made him more cautious in avoiding
every interference calculated to wound the self-love of the Greeks,
who, though fallen, are still remarkable for their pride, accounts for
the great popularity he had acquired.

'It may be truly said that no foreigner who has hitherto espoused the
cause made greater allowance for the errors inseparable from it than
did Lord Byron.

'With respect to his opinion as to the best mode of bringing the
contest to a triumphant close, and healing those differences which
have been created by party spirit or faction, there is reason to
believe that the subject occupied his particular attention, and he was
even more than once heard to say that "no person had as yet hit upon
the right plan for securing the independence of Greece."

'While sedulously employed in reconciling jarring interests and
promoting a spirit of union, the grand maxim which he laboured to
instil into the Greeks was that of making every other object secondary
and subservient to the paramount one of driving out the Turks.'

At six o'clock on the evening of that day, Blaquière added the following words:

'I have this instant returned on shore, after having performed the
melancholy duty of towing the remains of Lord Byron alongside the
_Florida_.

'I should add that, in consequence of there being no means of
procuring lead for the coffin at Zante, it was arranged that the tin
case prepared at Missolonghi should be enclosed in wood; so that there
is now no fear that the body will not reach England in perfect
preservation. The only mark of respect shown to-day was displayed by
the merchant vessels in the bay and mole. The whole of these, whether
English or foreign, had their flags at half-mast, and many of them
fired guns. The _Florida_ fired minute-guns from the time of our
leaving the lazaretto until we got alongside, when the body was taken
on board, and placed in a space prepared for that purpose. The whole
is painted black, and, thanks to the foresight of my friend Robinson,
an escutcheon very well executed designates the mournful receptacle.
Although no honours have been paid to the remains of our immortal
poet here, we look forward with melancholy satisfaction to those which
await him in the land of his birth.

'However bitterly his pen may have lashed the vices and follies of his
day, it is not the least honourable trait in our national character
that neither personal dislike nor those prejudices which arise from
literary jealousy and political animosity prevent us from duly
appreciating departed worth, and even forgetting those aberrations to
which all are more or less liable in this state of imperfection and
fallibility.'

The following extracts are taken from Lord Broughton's 'Recollections of a Long Life,' a work that was printed, but not published, in 1865. As the opinions of Byron's life-long friend, John Cam Hobhouse, they cannot fail to interest the reader:[27]

'How much soever the Greeks of that day may have differed on other
topics, there was no difference of opinion in regard to the loss they
had sustained by the death of Byron. Those who have read Colonel
Leicester Stanhope's interesting volume, "Greece in 1823 and 1824,"
and more particularly Colonel Stanhope's "Sketch" and Mr. Finlay's
"Reminiscences" of Byron, will have seen him just as he appeared to me
during our long intimacy. I liked him a great deal too well to be an
impartial judge of his character; but I can confidently appeal to the
impressions he made upon the two above-mentioned witnesses of his
conduct, under very trying circumstances, for a justification of my
strong affection for him--an affection not weakened by the forty years
of a busy and chequered life that have passed over me since I saw him
laid in his grave.

'The influence he had acquired in Greece was unbounded, and he had
exerted it in a manner most useful to her cause. Lord Sidney Osborne,
writing to Mrs. Leigh, said that, if Byron had never written a line in
his life, he had done enough, during the last six months in Greece, to
immortalize his name. He added that no one unacquainted with the
circumstances of the case could have any idea of the difficulties he
had overcome. He had reconciled the contending parties, and had given
a character of humanity and civilization to the warfare in which they
were engaged, besides contriving to prevent them from offending their
powerful neighbours in the Ionian Islands.

'I heard that Sir F. Adam,[28] in a despatch to Lord Bathurst, bore
testimony to his great qualities, and lamented his death as depriving
the Ionian Government of the only man with whom they could act with
safety. Mavrocordato, in his letter to Dr. Bowring, called him "a
great man," and confessed that he was almost ignorant how to act when
deprived of such a coadjutor.... On Thursday, July 1, I heard that the
_Florida_, with the remains of Byron, had arrived in the Downs, and I
went the same evening to Rochester. The next morning I went to
Standgate Creek, and, taking a boat, went on board the vessel. There I
found Colonel Leicester Stanhope, Dr. Bruno, Fletcher, Byron's valet,
with three others of his servants. Three dogs that had belonged to my
friend were playing about the deck. I could hardly bring myself to
look at them. The vessel had got under-weigh, and we beat up the river
to Gravesend. I cannot describe what I felt during the five or six
hours of our passage. I was the last person who shook hands with Byron
when he left England in 1816. I recollected his waving his cap to me
as the packet bounded off on a curling wave from the pier-head at
Dover, and here I was now coming back to England with his corpse.

'Poor Fletcher burst into tears when he first saw me, and wept
bitterly when he told me the particulars of my friend's last illness.
These have been frequently made public, and need not be repeated here.
I heard, however, on undoubted authority, that until he became
delirious he was perfectly calm; and I called to mind how often I had
heard him say that he was not apprehensive as to death itself, but as
to how, from physical infirmity, he might behave at that inevitable
hour. On one occasion he said to me, "Let no one come near me when I
am dying, if you can help it, and we happen to be together at the
time."

'The _Florida_ anchored at Gravesend, and I returned to London;
Colonel Stanhope accompanied me. This was on Friday, July 2. On the
following Monday I went to Doctors' Commons and proved Byron's will.
Mr. Hanson did so likewise. Thence I went to London Bridge, got into a
boat, and went to London Docks Buoy, where the _Florida_ was anchored.
I found Mr. Woodeson, the undertaker, on board, employed in emptying
the spirit from the large barrel containing the box that held the
corpse. This box was removed, and placed on deck by the side of a
leaden coffin. I stayed whilst the iron hoops were knocked off the
box; but I could not bear to see the remainder of the operation, and
went into the cabin. Whilst there I looked over the sealed packet of
papers belonging to Byron, which he had deposited at Cephalonia, and
which had not been opened since he left them there. Captain Hodgson of
the _Florida_, the captain's father, and Fletcher, were with me; we
examined every paper, and did not find any will. Those present signed
a document to that effect.

'After the removal of the corpse into the coffin, and the arrival of
the order from the Custom-house, I accompanied the undertaker in the
barge with the coffin. There were many boats round the ship at the
time, and the shore was crowded with spectators. We passed quietly up
the river, and landed at Palace Yard stairs. Thence the coffin and the
small chest containing the heart were carried to the house in George
Street, and deposited in the room prepared for their reception. The
room was decently hung with black, but there was no other decoration
than an escutcheon of the Byron arms, roughly daubed on a deal board.

'On reaching my rooms at the Albany, I found a note from Mr. Murray,
telling me that he had received a letter from Dr. Ireland, politely
declining to allow the burial of Byron in Westminster Abbey; but it
was not until the next day that, to my great surprise, I learnt, on
reading the doctor's note, that Mr. Murray had made the request to the
Dean in my name. I thought that it had been settled that Mr. Gifford
should sound the Dean of Westminster previously to any formal request
being made. I wrote to Mr. Murray, asking him to inform the Dean that
I had not made the request. Whether he did so, I never inquired.

'I ascertained from Mrs. Leigh that it was wished the interment should
take place at the family vault at Hucknall in Nottinghamshire. The
utmost eagerness was shown, both publicly and privately, to get sight
of anything connected with Byron. Lafayette was at that time on his
way to America, and a young Frenchman came over from the General at
Havre, and wrote me a note requesting a sight of the deceased poet.
The coffin had been closed, and his wishes could not be complied with.
A young man came on board the _Florida_, and in very moving terms
besought me to allow him to take one look at him. I was sorry to be
obliged to refuse, as I did not know the young man, and there were
many round the vessel who would have made the same request. He was
bitterly disappointed; and when I gave him a piece of the cotton in
which the corpse had been wrapped, he took it with much devotion, and
placed it in his pocket-book. Mr. Phillips, the Academician, applied
for permission to take a likeness, but I heard from Mrs. Leigh that
the features of her brother had been so disfigured by the means used
to preserve his remains, that she scarcely recognized them. This was
the fact; for I had summoned courage enough to look at my dead friend;
so completely was he altered, that the sight did not affect me so much
as looking at his handwriting, or anything that I knew had belonged to
him.'

The following account by Colonel Leicester Stanhope, probably outlined during his voyage home with Byron's body, is well worth reading. It unveils the personality of Byron as he appeared during those trying times at Missolonghi, when, tortured by illness and worried by dissensions among his coadjutors, he gave his life to Greece. Stanhope's sketch conveys the honest opinion of a man whose political views, differing fundamentally from those of Byron, brought them often in collision. But for this reason, perhaps, this record is the more valuable. It is written without prejudice, with considerable perspicuity, and with unquestionable sincerity. Its peculiar value lies in the approval which, as we have seen, it received from Mr. Hobhouse, who undoubtedly was better acquainted with the character of Byron than any of his contemporaries.

'In much of what certain authors have lately said in praise of Lord
Byron I concur. The public are indebted to them for useful information
concerning that extraordinary man's biography. I do not, however,
think that any of them have given of him a full and masterly
description. It would require a person of his own wonderful capacity
to draw his character, and even he could not perform this task
otherwise than by continuing the history of what passed in his mind;
for his character was as versatile as his genius. From his writings,
therefore, he must be judged, and from them can he alone be
understood. His character was, indeed, poetic, like his works, and he
partook of the virtues and vices of the heroes of his imagination.
Lord Byron was original and eccentric in all things, and his conduct
and his writings were unlike those of other men. He might have said
with Rousseau: "Moi seul. Je sens mon coeur et je connois les hommes.
Je ne suis fait comme aucun de ceux qui existent. Si je ne vaux pas
mieux, au moins, je suis autre. Si la nature a bien ou mal fait de
briser le moule dans lequel elle m'a jetté, c'est dont on ne peut
juger qu'après m'avoir lu." All that can be hoped is, that, after a
number of the ephemeral sketches of Lord Byron have been published,
and ample information concerning him obtained, some master-hand will
undertake the task of drawing his portrait. If anything like justice
be done to Lord Byron, his character will appear far more
extraordinary than any his imagination has produced, and not less
wonderful than those sublime and inimitable sketches created and
painted by the fanciful pen of Shakespeare.

'There were two circumstances which appear to me to have had a
powerful influence on Byron's conduct. I allude to his lameness and
his marriage. The deformity of his foot constantly preyed on his
spirits and soured his temper. It is extraordinary, however, and
contrary, I believe, to the conduct of the generality of lame persons,
that he pitied, sympathized, and befriended, those who laboured under
similar defects.

'With respect to Lady Byron, her image appeared to be rooted in his
mind. She had wounded Lord Byron's pride by having refused his first
offer of marriage; by having separated herself from him whom others
assiduously courted; and by having resisted all the efforts of his
genius to compel her again to yield to his dominion. Had Lady Byron
been submissive, could she have stooped to become a caressing slave,
like other ingenious slaves, she might have governed her lord and
master. But no, she had a mind too great, and was too much of an
Englishwoman to bow so low. These contrarieties set Lord Byron's heart
on fire, roused all his passions, gave birth, no doubt, to many of his
sublimest thoughts, and impelled him impetuously forward in his zigzag
career. When angry or humorous, she became the subject of his wild
sport; at other times she seemed, though he loved her not, to be the
mistress of his feelings, and one whom he in vain attempted to cast
from his thoughts. Thus, in a frolicsome tone, I have heard him sketch
characters, and, speaking of a certain acquaintance, say, "With the
exception of Southey and Lady Byron, there is no one I hate so much."
This was a noisy shot--a sort of a _feu de joie_, that inflicted no
wound, and left no scar behind. Lord Byron was in reality a
good-natured man, and it was a violence to his nature, which he seldom
practised, either to conceal what he thought or to harbour revenge. In
one conversation which I had with Lord Byron, he dwelt much upon the
acquirements and virtues of Lady Byron, and even said she had
committed no fault but that of having married him. The truth is, that
he was not formed for marriage. His riotous genius could not bear
restraint. No woman could have lived with him but one devoid of, or of
subdued, feelings--an Asiatic slave. Lord Byron, it is well known, was
passionately fond of his child; of this he gave me the following
proof. He showed me a miniature of Ada, as also a clever description
of her character, drawn by her mother, and forwarded to him by the
person he most esteemed, his amiable sister. After I had examined the
letter, while reflecting on its contents, I gazed intently on the
picture; Lord Byron, observing me in deep meditation, impatiently
said, "Well, well, what do you think of Ada?" I replied, "If these are
true representations of Ada, and are not drawn to flatter your vanity,
you have engrafted on her your virtues and your failings. She is in
mind and feature the very image of her father." Never did I see man
feel more pleasure than Lord Byron felt at this remark; his eyes
lightened with ecstasy.

'Lord Byron's mental and personal courage was unlike that of other
men. To the superficial observer his conduct seemed to be quite
unsettled; this was really the case to a certain extent. His genius
was boundless and excursive, and in conversation his tongue went
rioting on

'"From grave to gay, from lively to severe."

'Still, upon the whole, no man was more constant, and, I may almost
say, more obstinate in the pursuit of some great objects. For example,
in religion and politics he seemed firm as a rock, though like a rock
he was subjected to occasional rude shocks, the convulsions of
agitated nature.

'The assertions I have ventured to make of Lord Byron having fixed
opinions on certain material questions are not according to his own
judgment. From what fell from his own lips, I could draw no such
conclusions, for, in conversing with me on government and religion,
and after going wildly over these subjects, sometimes in a grave and
philosophical, and sometimes in a laughing and humorous strain, he
would say: "The more I think, the more I doubt; I am a perfect
sceptic." In contradiction to this assertion, I set Lord Byron's
recorded sentiments, and his actions from the period of his boyhood to
that of his death; and I contend that although he occasionally veered
about, yet he always returned to certain fixed opinions; and that he
felt a constant attachment to liberty, according to our notions of
liberty, and that, although no Christian, he was a firm believer in
the existence of a God. It is, therefore, equally remote from truth to
represent him as either an atheist or a Christian: he was, as he has
often told me, a confirmed deist.

'Lord Byron was no party politician. Lord Clare was the person whom he
liked best, because he was his old school acquaintance. Mr. John Cam
Hobhouse was his long-tried, his esteemed, and valued literary and
personal friend. Death has severed these, but there is a soul in
friendship that can never die. No man ever chose a nobler friend. Mr.
Hobhouse has given many proofs of this, and among others, I saw him,
from motives of high honour, destroy a beautiful poem of Lord Byron's,
and, perhaps, the last he ever composed. The same reason that induced
Mr. H. to tear this fine manuscript will, of course, prevent him or me
from ever divulging its contents. Mr. Douglas Kinnaird was another for
whom Lord Byron entertained the sincerest esteem: no less on account
of his high social qualities, than as a clear-sighted man of business,
on whose discretion he could implicitly rely. Sir Francis Burdett was
the politician whom he most admired. He used to say, "Burdett is an
Englishman of the old school." He compared the Baronet to the
statesmen of Charles I.'s time, whom he considered the sternest and
loftiest spirits that Britain had produced. Lord Byron entertained
high aristocratic notions, and had much family pride. He admired,
notwithstanding, the American institutions, but did not consider them
of so democratic a nature as is generally imagined. He found, he said,
many Englishmen and English writers more imbued with liberal notions
than those Americans and American authors with whom he was acquainted.

'Lord Byron was chivalrous even to Quixotism. This might have lowered
him in the estimation of the wise, had he not given some extraordinary
proofs of the noblest courage. For example, the moment he recovered
from that alarming fit which took place in my room, he inquired again
and again, with the utmost composure, whether he was in danger. If in
danger, he desired the physician honestly to apprise him of it, for he
feared not death. Soon after this dreadful paroxysm, when Lord Byron,
faint with overbleeding, was lying on his sick-bed, with his whole
nervous system completely shaken, the mutinous Suliotes, covered with
dirt and splendid attires, broke into his apartment, brandishing their
costly arms, and loudly demanding their wild rights. Lord Byron,
electrified by this unexpected act, seemed to recover from his
sickness; and the more the Suliotes raged, the more his calm courage
triumphed. The scene was truly sublime.

'At times Lord Byron would become disgusted with the Greeks, on
account of their horrid cruelties, their delays, their importuning him
for money, and their not fulfilling their promises. That he should
feel thus was very natural, although all this is just what might be
anticipated from a people breaking loose from ages of bondage. We are
too apt to expect the same conduct from men educated as slaves (and
here be it remembered that the Greeks were the Helots of slaves) that
we find in those who have, from their infancy, breathed the wholesome
atmosphere of liberty.

'Most persons assume a virtuous character. Lord Byron's ambition, on
the contrary, was to make the world imagine that he was a sort of
"Satan," though occasionally influenced by lofty sentiments to the
performance of great actions. Fortunately for his fame, he possessed
another quality, by which he stood completely unmasked. He was the
most ingenuous of men, and his nature, in the main good, always
triumphed over his acting.

'There was nothing that he detested more than to be thought merely a
great poet, though he did not wish to be esteemed inferior as a
dramatist to Shakspeare. Like Voltaire, he was unconsciously jealous
of, and for that reason abused, our immortal bard. His mind was
absorbed in detecting Shakspeare's glaring defects, instead of being
overpowered by his wonderful creative and redeeming genius. He assured
me that he was so far from being a "heaven-born poet" that he was not
conscious of possessing any talent in that way when a boy. This gift
had burst upon his mind unexpectedly, as if by inspiration, and had
excited his wonder. He also declared that he had no love or enthusiasm
for poetry. I shook my head doubtingly, and said to him that, although
he had displayed a piercing sagacity in reading and developing the
characters of others, he knew but little of his own. He replied:
"Often have I told you that I am a perfect sceptic. I have no fixed
opinions; that is my character. Like others, I am not in love with
what I possess, but with that which I do not possess, and which is
difficult to obtain." Lord Byron was for shining as a hero of the
first order. He wished to take an active part in the civil and
military government of Greece.[29] On this subject he consulted me; I
condemned the direct assumption of command by a foreigner, fearing
that it would expose him to envy and danger without promoting the
cause. I wished him, by a career of perfect disinterestedness, to
preserve a commanding influence over the Greeks, and to act as their
great mediator. Lord Byron listened to me with unusual and courteous
politeness, for he suspected my motives--he thought me
envious--jealous of his increasing power; and though he did not
disregard, did not altogether follow my advice. I was not, however, to
be disarmed either by politeness or suspicions; they touched me not,
for my mind was occupied with loftier thoughts. The attack was renewed
the next day in a mild tone. The collision, however, of Lord Byron's
arguments, sparkling with jests, and mine, regardless of his
brilliancy and satire, all earnestness, ended as usual in a storm.
Though most anxious to assume high power, Lord Byron was still modest.
He said to me, laughing, that if Napier came, he would _supersede
himself_, as Governor and Commander of Western Greece, in favour of
that distinguished officer. I laughed at this whimsical expression
till I made Lord Byron laugh, too, and repeat over again that he would
"supersede himself."

'The mind of Lord Byron was like a volcano, full of fire and wealth,
sometimes calm, often dazzling and playful, but ever threatening. It
ran swift as the lightning from one subject to another, and
occasionally burst forth in passionate throes of intellect, nearly
allied to madness. A striking instance of this sort of eruption I
shall mention. Lord Byron's apartments were immediately over mine at
Missolonghi. In the dead of the night I was frequently startled from
my sleep by the thunders of his lordship's voice, either raging with
anger or roaring with laughter, and rousing friends, servants, and,
indeed, all the inmates of the dwelling, from their repose. Even when
in the utmost danger, Lord Byron contemplated death with calm
philosophy. He was, however, superstitious, and dreadfully alarmed at
the idea of going mad, which he predicted would be his sad destiny.

'As a companion, no one could be more amusing; he had neither pedantry
nor affectation about him, but was natural and playful as a boy. His
conversation resembled a stream, sometimes smooth, sometimes rapid,
and sometimes rushing down in cataracts; it was a mixture of
philosophy and slang--of everything--like his "Don Juan." He was a
patient and, in general, a very attentive listener. When, however, he
did engage with earnestness in conversation, his ideas succeeded each
other with such uncommon rapidity that he could not control them. They
burst from him impetuously; and although he both attended to and
noticed the remarks of others, yet he did not allow these to check his
discourse for an instant.

'Lord Byron professed a deep-rooted antipathy to the English, though
he was always surrounded by Englishmen, and, in reality, preferred
them (as he did Italian women) to all others. I one day accused him of
ingratitude to his countrymen. For many years, I observed, he had
been, in spite of his faults, and although he had shocked all her
prejudices, the pride, and I might almost say the idol, of Britain. He
said they must be a stupid race to worship such an idol, but he had at
last cured their superstition, as far as his divinity was concerned,
by the publication of his "Cain." It was true, I replied, that he had
now lost their favour. This remark stung him to the soul, for he
wished not only to occupy the public mind, but to command, by his
genius, public esteem.

'This extraordinary person, whom everybody was as anxious to see, and
to know, as if he had been a Napoleon, the conqueror of the world, had
a notion that he was hated, and avoided like one who had broken
quarantine. He used often to mention to me the kindness of this or
that insignificant individual, for having given him a good and
friendly reception. In this particular Lord Byron was capricious, for
at Genoa he would scarcely see anyone but those who lived in his own
family; whereas at Cephalonia he was to everyone and at all times
accessible. At Genoa he acted the misanthropist; at Cephalonia he
appeared in his genuine character, doing good, and rather courting
than shunning society.

'Lord Byron conceived that he possessed a profound knowledge of
mankind, and of the working of their passions. In this he judged
right. He could fathom every mind and heart but his own, the extreme
depths of which none ever reached. On my arrival from England at
Cephalonia, his lordship asked me what new publications I had brought
out. Among others I mentioned "The Springs of Action." "Springs of
Action!" said Lord Byron, stamping with rage with his lame foot, and
then turning sharply on his heel, "I don't require to be taught on
this head. I know well what are the springs of action." Some time
afterwards, while speaking on another subject, he desired me to lend
him "The Springs of Action." He then suddenly changed the conversation
to some humorous remarks for the purpose of diverting my attention. I
could not, however, forbear reminding him of his former observations
and his furious stamp.

'Avarice and great generosity were among Lord Byron's qualities; these
contrarieties are said not unfrequently to be united in the same
person. As an instance of Lord Byron's parsimony, 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 Count
Gamba, who both on account of his talents and devotedness to his
friend merited his lordship's esteem.

'Lord Byron's generosity is before the world; he promised to devote
his large income to the cause of Greece, and he honestly acted up to
his pledge. It was impossible for Lord Byron to have made a more
useful, and therefore a more noble, sacrifice of his wealth, than by
devoting it, _with discretion_, to the Greek cause. He set a bright
example to the millionaires of his own country, who certainly show but
little public spirit. Most of them expend their fortunes in acts of
ostentation or selfishness. Few there are of this class who will
devote, perchance, the hundredth part of their large incomes to acts
of benevolence or bettering the condition of their fellow-men. None of
our millionaires, with all their pride and their boasting have had the
public virtue, like Lord Byron, to sacrifice their incomes or their
lives in aid of a people struggling for liberty.

'Lord Byron's reading was desultory, but extensive; his memory was
retentive to an extraordinary extent. He was partial to the Italian
poets, and is said to have borrowed from them. Their fine thoughts he
certainly associated with his own, but with such skill that he could
not be accused of plagiarism. Lord Byron possessed, indeed, a genius
absolutely boundless, and could create with such facility that it
would have been irksome to him to have become a servile imitator. He
was original in all things, but especially as a poet.

'The study of voyages and travels was that in which he most delighted;
their details he seemed actually to devour. He would sit up all night
reading them. His whole soul was absorbed in these adventures, and he
appeared to personify the traveller. Lord Byron had a particular
aversion to business; his familiar letters were scrawled out at a
great rate, and resembled his conversations. Rapid as were his tongue
and his pen, neither could keep pace with the quick succession of
ideas that flashed across his mind. He hated nothing more than writing
formal official letters; this drudgery he would generally put off from
day to day, and finish by desiring Count Gamba, or some other friend,
to perform the task. No wonder that Lord Byron should dislike this
dry antipoetic work, and which he, in reality, performed with so much
difficulty. Lord Byron's arduous yet unsuccessful labours in this
barren field put me in mind of the difficulty which one of the
biographers of Addison describes this politician to have experienced,
when attempting to compose an official paragraph for the _Gazette_
announcing the death of the Queen. This duty, after a long and
ineffectual attempt, the Minister, in despair, handed over to a clerk,
who (not being a genius, but a man of business) performed it in an
instant.

'Not less was Lord Byron's aversion to reading than to writing
official documents; these he used to hand over to me, pretending,
spite of all my protestations to the contrary, that I had a passion
for documents. When once Lord Byron had taken any whim into his head,
he listened not to contradiction, but went on laughing and satirizing
till his joke had triumphed over argument and fact. Thus I, for the
sake of peace, was sometimes silent, and suffered him to
good-naturedly bully me into reading over, or, rather, yawning over, a
mass of documents dull and uninteresting.

'Lord Byron once told me, in a humorous tone, but apparently quite in
earnest, that he never could acquire a competent knowledge of
arithmetic. Addition and subtraction he said he could, though with
some difficulty, accomplish. The mechanism of the rule of three
pleased him, but then division was a puzzle he could not muster up
sufficient courage to unravel. I mention this to show of how low a
cast Lord Byron's capacity was in some commonplace matters, where he
could not command attention. The reverse was the case on subjects of a
higher order, and in those trifling ones, too, that pleased his fancy.
Moved by such themes, the impulses of his genius shot forth, by day
and night, from his troubled brain, electric sparks or streams of
light, like blazing meteors.

'Lord Byron loved Greece. Her climate and her scenery, her history,
her struggles, her great men and her antiquities, he admired. He
declared that he had no mastery over his own thoughts. In early youth
he was no poet, nor was he now, except when the fit was upon him, and
he felt his mind agitated and feverish. These attacks, he continued,
scarcely ever visited him anywhere but in Greece; there he felt
himself exhilarated--metamorphosed into another person, and with
another soul--in short, never had he, but in Greece, written one good
line of poetry. This is a fact exaggerated, as facts often are, by the
impulses of strong feelings. It is not on that account less calculated
to convey to others the character of Lord Byron's mind, or to impress
it the less upon their recollections.

'Once established at Missolonghi, it required some great impetus to
move Lord Byron from that unhealthy swamp. On one occasion, when
irritated by the Suliotes and the constant applications for money, he
intimated his intention to depart. The citizens of Missolonghi and the
soldiers grumbled, and communicated to me, through Dr. Meyer, their
discontent. I repeated what I had heard to Lord Byron. He replied,
calmly, that he would rather be cut to pieces than imprisoned, for he
came to aid the Greeks in their struggle for liberty, and not to be
their slave. No wonder that the "Hellenists" endeavoured to impede
Lord Byron's departure, for even I, a mere soldier, could not escape
from Missolonghi, Athens, Corinth, or Salona, without considerable
difficulty. Some time previous to Lord Byron's death, he began to feel
a restlessness and a wish to remove to Athens or to Zante.'

On Monday, July 12, at eleven o'clock in the morning, the funeral procession, attended by a great number of carriages and by crowds of people, left No. 20, Great George Street, Westminster, and, passing the Abbey, moved slowly to St. Pancras Gate. Here a halt was made; the carriages returned, and the hearse proceeded by slow stages to Nottingham.

The Mayor and Corporation of Nottingham now joined the funeral procession. Mr. Hobhouse, who attended, tells us that the cortège extended about a quarter of a mile, and, moving very slowly, was five hours on the road to Hucknall-Torkard.

'The view of it as it wound through the villages of Papplewick and
Lindlay excited sensations in me which will never be forgotten. As we
passed under the Hill of Annesley, "crowned with the peculiar diadem
of trees" immortalized by Byron, I called to mind a thousand
particulars of my first visit to Newstead. It was dining at Annesley
Park that I saw the first interview of Byron, after a long interval,
with his early love, Mary Anne Chaworth.

'The churchyard and the little church of Hucknall were so crowded that
it was with difficulty we could follow the coffin up the aisle. The
contrast between the gorgeous decorations of the coffin and the urn,
and the humble village church, was very striking. I was told
afterwards that the place was crowded until a late hour in the
evening, and that the vault was not closed until the next morning.

'I should mention that I thought Lady Byron ought to be consulted
respecting the funeral of her husband; and I advised Mrs. Leigh to
write to her, and ask what her wishes might be. Her answer was, if the
deceased had left no instructions, she thought the matter might be
left to the judgment of Mr. Hobhouse. There was a postscript, saying,
"If you like you may show this."'

Hobhouse concludes his account with these words:

'I was present at the marriage of this lady with my friend, and handed
her into the carriage which took the bride and bridegroom away.
Shaking hands with Lady Byron, I wished her all happiness. Her answer
was: "If I am _not_ happy, it will be my own fault."'