CHAPTER XLIII

Lord Byron’s Conversations on Religion with Dr Kennedy

While Lord Byron was hesitating, in the Island of Cephalonia, about proceeding to Greece, an occurrence took place, of which much has been made.  I allude to the acquaintance he formed with a Dr Kennedy, the publication of whose conversations with him on religion has attracted some degree of public attention.

This gentleman was originally destined for the Scottish bar, but afterwards became a student of medicine, and entering the medical department of the army, happened to be stationed in Cephalonia when Lord Byron arrived.  He appears to have been a man of kind dispositions, possessed of a better heart than judgment; in all places wherever his duty bore him he took a lively interest in the condition of the inhabitants, and was active, both in his official and private capacity, to improve it.  He had a taste for circulating pious tracts, and zealously co-operated in distributing copies of the Scriptures.

Firmly settled, himself, in a conviction of the truth of Christianity, he was eager to make converts to his views of the doctrines; but whether he was exactly the kind of apostle to achieve the conversion of Lord Byron may, perhaps, be doubted.  His sincerity and the disinterestedness of his endeavours would secure to him from his Lordship an indulgent and even patient hearing.  But I fear that without some more effectual calling, the arguments he appears to have employed were not likely to have made Lord Byron a proselyte.  His Lordship was so constituted in his mind, and by his temperament, that nothing short of regeneration could have made him a Christian, according to the gospel of Dr Kennedy.

Lord Byron had but loose feelings in religion—scarcely any.  His sensibility and a slight constitutional leaning towards superstition and omens showed that the sense of devotion was, however, alive and awake within him; but with him religion was a sentiment, and the convictions of the understanding had nothing whatever to do with his creed.  That he was deeply imbued with the essence of natural piety; that he often felt the power and being of a God thrilling in all his frame, and glowing in his bosom, I declare my thorough persuasion; and that he believed in some of the tenets and in the philosophy of Christianity, as they influence the spirit and conduct of men, I am as little disposed to doubt; especially if those portions of his works which only trend towards the subject, and which bear the impression of fervour and earnestness, may be admitted as evidence.  But he was not a member of any particular church, and, without a reconstruction of his mind and temperament, I venture to say, he could not have become such; not in consequence, as too many have represented, of any predilection, either of feeling or principle, against Christianity, but entirely owing to an organic peculiarity of mind.  He reasoned on every topic by instinct, rather than by induction or any process of logic; and could never be so convinced of the truth or falsehood of an abstract proposition, as to feel it affect the current of his actions.  He may have assented to arguments, without being sensible of their truth; merely because they were not objectionable to his feelings at the time.  And, in the same manner, he may have disputed even fair inferences, from admitted premises, if the state of his feelings happened to be indisposed to the subject.  I am persuaded, nevertheless, that to class him among absolute infidels were to do injustice to his memory, and that he has suffered uncharitably in the opinion of “the rigidly righteous,” who, because he had not attached himself to any particular sect or congregation, assumed that he was an adversary to religion.  To claim for him any credit, as a pious man, would be absurd; but to suppose he had not as deep an interest as other men “in his soul’s health” and welfare, was to impute to him a nature which cannot exist.  Being, altogether, a creature of impulses, he certainly could not be ever employed in doxologies, or engaged in the logomachy of churchmen; but he had the sentiment which at a tamer age might have made him more ecclesiastical.  There was as much truth as joke in the expression, when he wrote,

I am myself a moderate Presbyterian.

A mind constituted like that of Lord Byron, was little susceptible of impressions from the arguments of ordinary men.  It was necessary that Truth, in visiting him, should come arrayed in her solemnities, and with Awe and Reverence for her precursors.  Acknowledged superiority, yea, celebrated wisdom, were indispensable, to bespeak his sincere attention; and, without disparagement, it may be fairly said, these were not the attributes of Dr Kennedy.  On the contrary, there was a taint of cant about him—perhaps he only acted like those who have it—but still he was not exactly the dignitary to command unaffected deference from the shrewd and irreverent author ofDon Juan.  The result verified what ought to have been the anticipation.  The doctor’s attempt to quicken Byron to a sense of grace failed; but his Lordship treated him with politeness.  The history of the affair will, however, be more interesting than any reflections which it is in my humble power to offer.

Some of Dr Kennedy’s acquaintances wished to hear him explain, in “a logical and demonstrative manner, the evidences and doctrines of Christianity”; and Lord Byron, hearing of the intended meeting, desired to be present, and was accordingly invited.  He attended; but was not present at several others which followed; he however intimated to the doctor, that he would be glad to converse with him, and the invitation was accepted.  “On religion,” says the doctor, “his Lordship was in general a hearer, proposing his difficulties and objections with more fairness than could have been expected from one under similar circumstances; and with so much candour, that they often seemed to be proposed more for the purpose of procuring information, or satisfactory answers, than from any other motive.”

At the first meeting, Dr Kennedy explained, becomingly, his views of the subject, and that he had read every work against Christianity which fell in his way.  It was this consideration which had induced him with such confidence to enter upon the discussion, knowing, on the one hand, the strength of Christianity, and, on the other, the weakness of its assailants.  “To show you, therefore,” said the doctor, “the grounds on which I demand your attention to what I may say on the nature and evidence of Christianity, I shall mention the names of some of the authors whose works I have read or consulted.”  When he had mentioned all these names, Lord Byron asked if he had read Barrow’s and Stillingfleet’s works?  The doctor replied, “I have seen them, but I have not read them.”

After a disquisition, chiefly relative to the history of Christianity, Dr Kennedy observed, “We must, on all occasions, but more particularly in fair and logical discussions with sceptics, or Deists, make a distinction between Christianity, as it is found in the Scriptures, and the errors, abuses, and imperfections of Christians themselves.”  To this his Lordship remarked, that he always had taken care to make that distinction, as he knew enough of Christianity to feel that it was both necessary and just.  The doctor remarked that the contrary was almost universally the case with those who doubted or denied the truth of Christianity, and proceeded to illustrate the statement.  He then read a summary of the fundamental doctrines of Christianity; but he had not proceeded far, when he observed signs of impatience in Lord Byron, who inquired if these sentiments accorded with the doctor’s? and being answered they did, and with those of all sound Christians, except in one or two minor things, his Lordship rejoined, that he did not wish to hear the opinions of others, whose writings he could read at any time, but only his own.  The doctor then read on till coming to the expression “grace of God.”  His Lordship inquired, “What do you mean by grace?”  “The primary and fundamental meaning of the word,” replied the doctor, somewhat surprised at his ignorance (I quote his own language), “is favour; though it varies according to the context to express that disposition of God which leads Him to grant a favour, the action of doing so, or the favour itself, or its effects on those who receive it.”  The arrogance of the use of the term ignorance here, requires no animadversion; but to suppose the greatest master, then in existence, of the English language, not acquainted with the meaning of the word, when he asked to be informed of the meaning attached to it by the individual making use of it, gives us some insight into the true character of the teacher.  The doctor closed the book, as he perceived that Lord Byron, as he says, had no distinct conception of many of the words used; and his Lordship subjoined, “What we want is, to be convinced that the Bible is true; because if we can believe that, it will follow as a matter of course, that we must believe all the doctrines it contains.”

The reply to this was to the effect, that the observation was partly just; but though the strongest evidence were produced of the Scriptures being the revealed will of God, they (his Lordship and others present) would still remain unbelievers, unless they knew and comprehended the doctrines contained in the Scriptures.  This was not conclusive, and Lord Byron replied, that they wished him to prove that the Scriptures were the Word of God, which the doctor, with more than apostolic simplicity, said that such was his object, but he should like to know what they deemed the clearest course to follow with that object in view.  After some farther conversation—“No other plan was proposed by them,” says the doctor; and he adds, “they had violated their engagement to hear me for twelve hours, for which I had stipulated.”  This may, perhaps, satisfy the reader as to the quality of the doctor’s understanding; but as the subject, in its bearing, touches Lord Byron’s character, I shall proceed a little farther into the marrow of the matter.

The inculcation being finished for that evening, Lord Byron said, that when he was young his mother brought him up strictly; and that he had access to a great many theological works, and remembered that he was particularly pleased with Barrow’s writings, and that he also went regularly to church.  He declared that he was not an infidel, who denied the Scriptures and wished to remain in unbelief; on the contrary, he was desirous to believe, as he experienced no happiness in having his religious opinions so unsteady and unfixed.  But he could not, he added, understand the Scriptures.  “Those people who conscientiously believe, I always have respected, and was always disposed to trust in them more than in others.”  A desultory conversation then ensued, respecting the language and translations of the Scriptures; in the course of which his Lordship remarked, that Scott, in his Commentary on the Bible, did not say that it was the devil who tempted Eve, nor does the Bible say a word about the devil.  It is only said that the serpent spoke, and that it was the subtlest of all the beasts of the field.—Will it be said that truth and reason were served by Dr Kennedy’s{319}answer?  “As beasts have not the faculty of speech, the just inference is, that the beast was only an instrument made use of by some invisible and superior being.  The Scriptures accordingly tell us, that the devil is the father of lies—the lie made by the serpent to Eve being the first we have on record; they call him also a murderer from the beginning, as he was the cause of the sentence of death which was pronounced against Adam and all his posterity; and still farther, to remove all doubt, and to identify him as the agent who used the serpent as an instrument, he is called the serpent—the devil.”

Lord Byron inquired what the doctor thought of the theory of Warburton, that the Jews had no distinct idea of a future state?  The doctor acknowledged that he had often seen, but had never readThe Divine Legation.  And yet, he added, had Warburton read his Bible with more simplicity and attention, he would have enjoyed a more solid and honourable fame.

His Lordship then said, that one of the greatest difficulties he had met with was the existence of so much pure and unmixed evil in the world, and which he could not reconcile to the idea of a benevolent Creator.  The doctor set aside the question as to the origin of evil; but granted the extensive existence of evil in the universe; to remedy which, he said, the Gospel was proclaimed; and after some of the customary commonplaces, he ascribed much of the existing evil to the slackness of Christians in spreading the Gospel.

“Is there not,” said his Lordship, “some part of the New Testament where it appears that the disciples were struck with the state of physical evil, and made inquiries into the cause?”—“There are two passages,” was the reply.  The disciples inquired, when they saw a man who had been born blind, whether it was owing to his own or his parents’ sin?—and, after quoting the other instance, he concludes, that moral and physical evil in individuals are not always a judgment or punishment, but are intended to answer certain ends in the government of the world.

“Is there not,” said his Lordship, “a prophecy in the New Testament which it is alleged has not been fulfilled, although it was declared that the end of the world would come before the generation then existing should pass away?”—“The prediction,” said Dr Kennedy, “related to the destruction of Jerusalem, which certainly took place within the time assigned; though some of the expressions descriptive of the signs of that remarkable event are of such a nature as to appear to apply to Christ’s coming to judge the world at the end of time.”

His Lordship then asked, if the doctor thought that there had been fewer wars and persecutions, and less slaughter and misery, in the world since the introduction of Christianity than before?  The doctor answered this by observing, that since Christianity inculcates peace and good-will to all men, we must always separate pure religion from the abuses of which its professors are guilty.

Two other opinions were expressed by his Lordship in the conversation.  The doctor, in speaking of the sovereignty of God, had alluded to the similitude of the potter and his clay; for his Lordship said, if he were broken in pieces, he would say to the potter, “Why do you treat me thus?”  The other was an absurdity.  It was—if the whole world were going to hell, he would prefer going with them than go alone to heaven.

Such was the result of the first council of Cephalonia, if one may venture the allusion.  It is manifest, without saying much for Lord Byron’s ingenuity, that he was fully a match for the doctor, and that he was not unacquainted with the subject under discussion.

In the next conversation Lord Byron repeated, “I have no wish to reject Christianity without investigation; on the contrary, I am very desirous of believing.  But I do not see very much the need of a Saviour, nor the utility of prayer.  Devotion is the affection of the heart, and this I feel.  When I view the wonders of creation, I bow to the Majesty of Heaven; and when I feel the enjoyments of life, I feel grateful to God for having bestowed them upon me.”  Upon this some discussion arose, turning chiefly on the passage in the third chapter of John, “Unless a man is converted, he cannot enter the kingdom of Heaven”; which naturally led to an explanatory interlocutor, concerning new birth, regeneration, etc.; and thence diverged into the topics which had been the subject of the former conversation.

Among other things, Lord Byron inquired, “if the doctor really thought that the devil appeared before God, as is mentioned in the Book of Job, or is it only an allegorical or poetical mode of speaking?”—The reply was, “I believe it in the strict and literal meaning.”

“If it be received in a literal sense,” said his Lordship, “it gives me a much higher idea of the majesty, power, and wisdom of God, to believe that the devils themselves are at His nod, and are subject to His control, with as much ease as the elements of nature follow the respective laws which His will has assigned them.”

This notion was characteristic, and the poetical feeling in which it originated, when the doctor attempted to explain the doctrine of the Manicheans, was still more distinctly developed; for his Lordship again expressed how much the belief of the real appearance of Satan, to hear and obey the commands of God, added to his views of the grandeur and majesty of the Creator.

This second conversation was more desultory than the first; religion was brought in only incidentally, until his Lordship said, “I do not reject the doctrines of Christianity; I want only sufficient proofs of it, to take up the profession in earnest; and I do not believe myself to be so bad a Christian as many of them who preach against me with the greatest fury—many of whom I have never seen nor injured.”

“You have only to examine the causes which prevent you” (from being a true believer), said the doctor, “and you will find they are futile, and only tend to withhold you from the enjoyment of real happiness; which at present it is impossible you can find.”

“What, then, you think me in a very bad way?”

“I certainly think you are,” was the reply; “and this I say, not on my own authority, but on that of the Scriptures.—Your Lordship must be converted, and must be reformed, before anything can be said of you, except that you are bad, and in a bad way.”

“But,” replied his Lordship, “I already believe in predestination, which I know you believe, and in the depravity of the human heart in general, and of my own in particular; thus you see there are two points in which we agree.  I shall get at the others by-and-by.  You cannot expect me to become a perfect Christian at once.”

And farther his Lordship subjoined:

“Predestination appears to me just; from my own reflection and experience, I am influenced in a way which is incomprehensible, and am led to do things which I never intended; and if there is, as we all admit, a Supreme Ruler of the universe; and if, as you say, he has the actions of the devils, as well as of his own angels, completely at his command, then those influences, or those arrangements of circumstances, which lead us to do things against our will, or with ill-will, must be also under his directions.  But I have never entered into the depths of the subject; I have contented myself with believing that there is a predestination of events, and that predestination depends on the will of God.”

Dr Kennedy, in speaking of this second conversation, bears testimony to the respectfulness of his Lordship’s attention.  “There was nothing in his manner which approached to levity, or anything that indicated a wish to mock at religion; though, on the other hand, an able dissembler would have done and said all that he did, with such feelings and intentions.”

Subsequent to the second conversation, Dr Kennedy asked a gentleman who was intimate with Lord Byron, if he really thought his Lordship serious in his desire to hear religion explained.  “Has he exhibited any contempt or ridicule at what I have said?”  This gentleman assured him that he had never heard Byron allude to the subject in any way which could induce him to suspect that he was merely amusing himself.  “But, on the contrary, he always names you with respect.  I do not, however, think you have made much impression on him: he is just the same fellow as before.  He says, he does not know what religion you are of, for you neither adhere to creeds nor councils.”

It ought here to be noticed, as showing the general opinion entertained of his Lordship with respect to these polemical conversations, that the wits of the garrison made themselves merry with what was going on.  Some of them affected to believe, or did so, that Lord Byron’s wish to hear Dr Kennedy proceeded from a desire to have an accurate idea of the opinions and manners of the Methodists, in order that he might make Don Juan become one for a time, and so be enabled to paint their conduct with greater accuracy.

The third conversation took place soon after this comment had been made on Lord Byron’s conduct.  The doctor inquired if his Lordship had read any of the religious books he had sent.  “I have looked,” replied Byron, “into Boston’sFourfold State, but I have not had time to read it far: I am afraid it is too deep for me.”

Although there was no systematic design, on the part of Lord Byron, to make Dr Kennedy subservient to any scheme of ridicule; yet it is evident that he was not so serious as the doctor so meritoriously desired.

“I have begun,” said his Lordship, “very fairly; I have given some of your tracts to Fletcher (his valet), who is a good sort of man, but still wants, like myself, some reformation; and I hope he will spread them among the other servants, who require it still more.  Bruno, the physician, and Gamba, are busy, reading some of the Italian tracts; and I hope it will have a good effect on them.  The former is rather too decided against it at present; and too much engaged with a spirit of enthusiasm for his own profession, to attend to other subjects; but we must have patience, and we shall see what has been the result.  I do not fail to read, from time to time, my Bible, though not, perhaps, so much as I should.”

“Have you begun to pray that you may understand it?”

“Not yet.  I have not arrived at that pitch of faith yet; but it may come by-and-by.  You are in too great a hurry.”

His Lordship then went to a side-table, on which a great number of books were ranged; and, taking hold of an octavo, gave it to the doctor.  It wasIllustrations of the Moral Government of God, by E. Smith, M.D., London.  “The author,” said he, “proves that the punishment of hell is not eternal; it will have a termination.”

“The author,” replied the doctor, “is, I suppose, one of the Socinians; who, in a short time, will try to get rid of every doctrine in the Bible.  How did your Lordship get hold of this book?”

“They sent it out to me from England, to make a convert of me, I suppose.  The arguments are strong, drawn from the Bible itself; and by showing that a time will come when every intelligent creature shall be supremely happy, and eternally so, it expunges that shocking doctrine, that sin and misery will for ever exist under the government of God, Whose highest attribute is love and goodness.  To my present apprehension, it would be a most desirable thing, could it be proved that, alternately, all created beings were to be happy.  This would appear to be most consistent with the nature of God.—I cannot yield to your doctrine of the eternal duration of punishment.—This author’s opinion is more humane; and, I think, he supports it very strongly from Scripture.”

The fourth conversation was still more desultory, being carried on at table amid company; in the course of it Lord Byron, however, declared “that he was so much of a believer as to be of opinion that there is no contradiction in the Scriptures which cannot be reconciled by an attentive consideration and comparison of passages.”

It is needless to remark that Lord Byron, in the course of these conversations, was incapable of preserving a consistent seriousness.  The volatility of his humour was constantly leading him into playfulness, and he never lost an opportunity of making a pun or saying a quaint thing.  “Do you know,” said he to the doctor, “I am nearly reconciled to St Paul; for he says there is no difference between the Jews and the Greeks, and I am exactly of the same opinion, for the character of both is equally vile.”

Upon the whole it must be conceded, that whatever was the degree of Lord Byron’s dubiety as to points of faith and doctrine, he could not be accused of gross ignorance, nor described as animated by any hostile feeling against religion.

In this sketch of these conversations, I have restricted myself chiefly to those points which related to his Lordship’s own sentiments and belief.  It would have been inconsistent with the concise limits of this work to have detailed the controversies.  A fair summary of what Byron did not believe, what he was disposed to believe but had not satisfied himself with the evidence, and what he did believe, seemed to be the task I ought to undertake.  The result confirmed the statement of his Lordship’s religious condition, given in the preliminary remarks which, I ought to mention, were written before I looked into Dr Kennedy’s book; and the statement is not different from the estimate which the conversations warrant.  It is true that Lord Byron’s part in the conversations is not very characteristic; but the integrity of Dr Kennedy is a sufficient assurance that they are substantially correct.

Voyage to Cephalonia—Letter—Count Gamba’s Address—Grateful Feelings of the Turks—Endeavours of Lord Byron to mitigate the Horrors of the War

Lord Byron, after leaving Argostoli, on the 29th December, 1823, the port of Cephalonia, sailed for Zante, where he took on board a quantity of specie.  Although the distance from Zante to Missolonghi is but a few hours’ sail, the voyage was yet not without adventures.  Missolonghi, as I have already mentioned, was then blockaded by the Turks, and some address was necessary, on that account, to effect an entrance, independent of the difficulties, at all times, of navigating the canals which intersect the shallows.  In the following letter to Colonel Stanhope, his Lordship gives an account of what took place.  It is very characteristic; I shall therefore quote it.

“Scrofer,or some such name,on board aCephaloniate Mistice,Dec. 31, 1823.

“MY DEAR STANHOPE,—We are just arrived here—that is, part of my people and I, with some things, etc., and which it may be as well not to specify in a letter (which has a risk of being intercepted, perhaps); but Gamba and my horses, negro, steward, and the press, and all the committee things, also some eight thousand dollars of mine (but never mind, we have more left—do you understand?) are taken by the Turkish frigates; and my party and myself in another boat, have had a narrow escape, last night (being close under their stern, and hailed, but we would not answer, and bore away) as well as this morning.  Here we are, with sun and charming weather, within a pretty little port enough; but whether our Turkish friends may not send in their boats, and take us out (for we have no arms, except two carbines and some pistols, and, I suspect, not more than four fighting people on board), is another question; especially if we remain long here, since we are blocked out of Missolonghi by the direct entrance.  You had better send my friend George Drake, and a body of Suliotes, to escort us by land or by the canals, with all convenient speed.  Gamba and ourBombardare taken into Patras, I suppose, and we must take a turn at the Turks to get them out.  But where the devil is the fleet gone? the Greek, I mean—leaving us to get in without the least intimation to take heed that the Moslems were out again.  Make my respects to Mavrocordato, and say that I am here at his disposal.  I am uneasy at being here.  We are very well.—Yours, etc.

“N. B.

“P.S.  TheBombardwas twelve miles out when taken; at least, so it appeared to us (if taken she actually be, for it is not certain), and we had to escape from another vessel that stood right in between us and the port.”

Colonel Stanhope on receiving this despatch, which was carried to him by two of Lord Byron’s servants, sent two armed boats, and a company of Suliotes, to escort his Lordship to Missolonghi, where he arrived on the 5th of January, and was received with military honours, and the most enthusiastic demonstrations of popular joy.  No mark of respect which the Greeks could think of was omitted.  The ships fired a salute as he passed.  Prince Mavrocordato, and all the authorities, with the troops and the population, met him on his landing, and accompanied him to the house which had been prepared for him, amid the shouts of the multitude and the discharge of cannon.

In the meantime, Count Gamba and his companions being taken before Yusuff Pasha at Patras, expected to share the fate of certain unfortunate prisoners whom that stern chief had sacrificed the preceding year at Prevesa; and their fears would probably have been realised but for the intrepid presence of mind displayed by the Count, who, assuming a haughty style, accused the Ottoman captain of the frigate of a breach of neutrality, in detaining a vessel under English colours, and concluded by telling the Pasha that he might expect the vengeance of the British Government in thus interrupting a nobleman who was merely on his travels, and bound to Calamata.  Perhaps, however, another circumstance had quite as much influence with the Pasha as this bravery.  In the master of the vessel he recognised a person who had saved his life in the Black Sea fifteen years before, and in consequence not only consented to the vessel’s release, but treated the whole of the passengers with the utmost attention, and even urged them to take a day’s shooting in the neighbourhood.

The first measure which his Lordship attempted after his arrival, was to mitigate the ferocity with which the war was carried on; one of the objects, as he explained to my friend who visited him at Genoa, which induced him to embark in the cause.  And it happened that the very day he reached the town was signalised by his rescuing a Turk who had fallen into the hands of some Greek sailors.  This man was clothed by his Lordship’s orders, and sent over to Patras; and soon after Count Gamba’s release, hearing that four other Turks were prisoners in Missolonghi, he requested that they might be placed in his hands, which was immediately granted.  These he also sent to Patras, with a letter addressed to Yusuff, expressing his hope that the prisoners thence-forward taken on both sides would be treated with humanity.  This act was followed by another equally praiseworthy.  A Greek cruiser having captured a Turkish boat, in which there was a number of passengers, chiefly women and children, they were also placed at the disposal of his Lordship, at his particular request.  Captain Parry has given a description of the scene between Lord Byron, and that multitude of mothers and children, too interesting to be omitted here.  “I was summoned to attend him, and receive his orders that everything should be done which might contribute to their comfort.  He was seated on a cushion at the upper end of the room, the women and children were standing before him with their eyes fixed steadily on him; and on his right hand was his interpreter, who was extracting from the women a narrative of their sufferings.  One of them, apparently about thirty years of age, possessing great vivacity, and whose manners and dress, though she was then dirty and disfigured, indicated that she was superior in rank and condition to her companions, was spokeswoman for the whole.  I admired the good order the others preserved, never interfering with the explanation, or interrupting the single speaker.  I also admired the rapid manner in which the interpreter explained everything they said, so as to make it almost appear that there was but one speaker.  After a short time it was evident that what Lord Byron was hearing affected his feelings; his countenance changed, his colour went and came, and I thought he was ready to weep.  But he had, on all occasions, a ready and peculiar knack in turning conversation from any disagreeable or unpleasant subject; and he had recourse to this expedient.  He rose up suddenly, and, turning round on his heel as was his wont, he said something to his interpreter, who immediately repeated it to the women.  All eyes were immediately fixed on me; and one of the party, a young and beautiful woman, spoke very warmly.  Lord Byron seemed satisfied, and said they might retire.  The women all slipped off their shoes in an instant, and, going up to his Lordship, each in succession, accompanied by their children, kissed his hand fervently, invoked, in the Turkish manner, a blessing, both on his hand and heart, and then quitted the room.  This was too much for Lord Byron, and he turned his face away to conceal his emotion”

A vessel was then hired, and the whole of them, to the number of twenty-four, were sent to Prevesa, provided with every requisite for their comfort during the passage.  These instances of humanity excited a sympathy among the Turks.  The Governor of Prevesa thanked his Lordship, and assured him that he would take care that equal attention should be in future paid to the Greeks, who might fall into his hands.

Proceedings at Missolonghi—Byron’s Suliote Brigade—Their Insubordination—Difference with Colonel Stanhope—Imbecility of the Plans for the Independence of Greece

The arrival of Lord Byron at Missolonghi was not only hailed as a new era in the history of Greece, but as the beginning of a new cycle in his own extraordinary life.  His natural indolence disappeared; the Sardanapalian sloth was thrown off, and he took a station in the van of her efforts that bespoke heroic achievement.

After paying the fleet, which indeed had only come out in the expectation of receiving the arrears from the loan he had promised to Mavrocordato, he resolved to form a brigade of Suliotes.  Five hundred of the remains of Marco Botzaris’s gallant followers were accordingly taken into his pay.  “He burns with military ardour and chivalry,” says Colonel Stanhope, “and will proceed with the expedition to Lepanto.”  But the expedition was delayed by causes which ought to have been foreseen.

The Suliotes, conceiving that in his Lordship they had found a patron whose wealth and generosity were equally boundless, refused to quit Missolonghi till their arrears were paid.  Savage in the field, and untamable in the city, they became insubordinate and mercenary; nor was their conduct without excuse.  They had long defended the town with untired bravery; their families had been driven into it in the most destitute condition; and all the hopes that had led them to take up arms were still distant and prospective.  Besides, Mavrocordato, unlike the other Grecian captains, having no troops of his own, affected to regard these mercenaries as allies, and was indulgent to their excesses.  The town was overawed by their turbulence, conflicts took place in the street; riot and controversy everywhere prevailed, and blood was shed.

Lord Byron’s undisciplined spirit could ill brook delay; he partook of the general vehemence, and lost the power of discerning the comparative importance both of measures and things.  He was out of his element; confusion thickened around him; his irritability grew into passion; and there was the rush and haste, the oblivion and alarm of fatality in all he undertook and suggested.

One day, a party of German adventurers reached the fortress so demoralized by hardships, that few of them were fit for service.  It was intended to form a corps of artillery, and these men were destined for that branch of the service; but their condition was such, that Stanhope doubted the practicability of carrying the measure into effect at that time.  He had promised to contribute a hundred pounds to their equipment.  Byron attributed the Colonel’s objections to reluctance to pay the money; and threatened him if it were refused, with a punishment, new in Grecian war——to libel him in theGreek Chronicle! a newspaper which Stanhope had recently established.

It is, however, not easy to give a correct view of the state of affairs at that epoch in Missolonghi.  All parties seem to have been deplorably incompetent to understand the circumstances in which they were placed;—the condition of the Greeks, and that their exigencies required only physical and military means.  They talked of newspapers and types, and libels, as if the moral instruments of civil exhortation were adequate to wrench the independence of Greece from the bloody grasp of the Ottoman.  No wonder that Byron, accustomed to the management only of his own fancies, was fluttered amid the conflicts of such riot and controversy.

His situation at this period was indeed calculated to inspire pity.  Had he survived, it might, instead of awakening the derision of history, have supplied to himself materials for another canto ofDon Juan.  I shall select one instance of his afflictions.

The captain of a British gun-brig came to Missolonghi to demand an equivalent for an Ionian boat, which had been taken in the act of going out of the Gulf of Lepanto, with provisions and arms.  The Greek fleet at that time blockading the port consisted of five brigs, and the Turks had fourteen vessels of war in the gulf.  The captain maintained that the British Government recognised no blockade which was not efficient, and that the efficiency depended on the numerical superiority of cannon.  On this principle he demanded restitution of the property.  Mavrocordato offered to submit the case to the decision of the British Government, but the captain would only give him four hours to consider.  The indemnification was granted.

Lord Byron conducted the business in behalf of the captain.  In the evening, conversing with Stanhope on the subject, the colonel said the affair was conducted in a bullying manner.  His Lordship started into a passion and contended that law, justice, and equity had nothing to do with politics.  “That may be,” replied Stanhope, “but I will never lend myself to injustice.”

His Lordship then began to attack Jeremy Bentham.  The colonel complained of such illiberality, as to make personal attacks on that gentleman before a friend who held him in high estimation.

“I only attack his public principles,” replied Byron, “which are mere theories, but dangerous,—injurious to Spain, and calculated to do great mischief in Greece.”

Stanhope vindicated Bentham, and said, “He possesses a truly British heart; but your Lordship, after professing liberal principles from boyhood, have, when called upon to act, proved yourself a Turk.”

“What proofs have you of this?

“Your conduct in endeavouring to crush the press by declaiming against it to Mavrocordato, and your general abuse of liberal principles.”

“If I had held up my finger,” retorted his Lordship, “I could have crushed the press.”

“With all this power,” said Stanhope, “which by the way you never possessed, you went to the prince, and poisoned his ear.”

Lord Byron then disclaimed against the liberals.  “What liberals?” cried Stanhope.  “Did you borrow your notions of freemen from the Italians?”

“No: from the Hunts, Cartwrights, and such.”

“And yet your Lordship presented Cartwright’s Reform Bill, and aided Hunt by praising his poetry and giving him the sale of your works.”

“You are worse than Wilson,” exclaimed Byron, “and should quit the army.”

“I am a mere soldier,” replied Stanhope, “but never will I abandon my principles.  Our principles are diametrically opposite, so let us avoid the subject.  If Lord Byron acts up to his professions, he will be the greatest, if not, the meanest of mankind.”

“My character,” said his Lordship, “I hope, does not depend on your assertions.”

“No: your genius has immortalized you.  The worst will not deprive you of fame.”

Lord Byron then rejoined, “Well; you shall see: judge of me by my acts.”  And, bidding the colonel good night, who took up the light to conduct him to the passage, he added, “What! hold up a light to a Turk!”

Such were the Franklins, the Washingtons, and the Hamiltons who undertook the regeneration of Greece.

Lord Byron appointed to the command of three thousand Men to besiege Lepanto—The Siege abandoned for a Blockade—Advanced Guard ordered to proceed—Lord Byron’s first Illness—A Riot—He is urged to leave Greece—The Expedition against Lepanto abandoned—Byron dejected—A wild diplomatic Scheme

Three days after the conversation related in the preceding chapter, Byron was officially placed in the command of about three thousand men, destined for the attack on Lepanto; but the Suliotes remained refractory, and refused to quit their quarters; his Lordship, however, employed an argument which proved effectual.  He told them that if they did not obey his commands, he would discharge them from his service.

But the impediments were not to be surmounted; in less than a week it was formally reported to Byron that Missolonghi could not furnish the means of undertaking the siege of Lepanto, upon which his Lordship proposed that Lepanto should be only blockaded by two thousand men.  Before any actual step was, however, taken, two spies came in with a report that the Albanians in garrison at Lepanto had seized the citadel, and were determined to surrender it to his Lordship.  Still the expedition lingered; at last, on the 14th of February, six weeks after Byron’s arrival at Missolonghi, it was determined that an advanced guard of three hundred soldiers, under the command of Count Gamba, should march for Lepanto, and that Lord Byron, with the main body, should follow.  The Suliotes were, however, still exorbitant, calling for fresh contributions for themselves and their families.  His troubles were increasing, and every new rush of the angry tide rose nearer and nearer his heart; still his fortitude enabled him to preserve an outward show of equanimity.  But, on the very day after the determination had been adopted, to send forward the advanced guard, his constitution gave way.

He was sitting in Colonel Stanhope’s room, talking jestingly, according to his wonted manner, with Captain Parry, when his eyes and forehead occasionally discovered that he was agitated by strong feelings.  On a sudden he complained of a weakness in one of his legs; he rose, but finding himself unable to walk, called for assistance; he then fell into a violent nervous convulsion, and was placed upon a bed: while the fit lasted, his face was hideously distorted; but in the course of a few minutes the convulsion ceased, and he began to recover his senses: his speech returned, and he soon rose, apparently well.  During the struggle his strength was preternaturally augmented, and when it was over, he behaved with his usual firmness.  “I conceive,” says Colonel Stanhope, “that this fit was occasioned by over-excitement.  The mind of Byron is like a volcano; it is full of fire, wrath, and combustibles, and when this matter comes to be strongly agitated, the explosion is dreadful.  With respect to the causes which produced the excess of feeling, they are beyond my reach, except one great cause, the provoking conduct of the Suliotes.”

A few days after this distressing incident, a new occurrence arose, which materially disturbed the tranquillity of Byron.  A Suliote, accompanied by the son, a little boy, of Marco Botzaris, with another man, walked into the Seraglio, a kind of citadel, which had been used as a barrack for the Suliotes, and out of which they had been ejected with difficulty, when it was required for the reception of stores and the establishment of a laboratory.  The sentinel ordered them back, but the Suliote advanced.  The sergeant of the guard, a German, pushed him back.  The Suliote struck the sergeant; they closed and struggled.  The Suliote drew his pistol; the German wrenched it from him, and emptied the pan.  At this moment a Swedish adventurer, Captain Sass, seeing the quarrel, ordered the Suliote to be taken to the guard-room.  The Suliote would have departed, but the German still held him.  The Swede drew his sabre; the Suliote his other pistol.  The Swede struck him with the flat of his sword; the Suliote unsheathed his ataghan, and nearly cut off the left arm of his antagonist, and then shot him through the head.  The other Suliotes would not deliver up their comrade, for he was celebrated among them for distinguished bravery.  The workmen in the laboratory refused to work: they required to be sent home to England, declaring, they had come out to labour peaceably, and not to be exposed to assassination.  These untoward occurrences deeply vexed Byron, and there was no mind of sufficient energy with him to control the increasing disorders.  But, though convinced, as indeed he had been persuaded from the beginning in his own mind, that he could not render any assistance to the cause beyond mitigating the ferocious spirit in which the war was conducted, his pride and honour would not allow him to quit Greece.

In a letter written soon after his first attack, he says, “I am a good deal better, though of course weakly.  The leeches took too much blood from my temples the day after, and there was some difficulty in stopping it; but I have been up daily, and out in boats or on horseback.  To-day I have taken a warm bath, and live as temperately as can well be, without any liquid but water, and without any animal food”; then adverting to the turbulences of the Suliotes, he adds, “but I still hope better things, and will stand by the cause as long as my health and circumstances will permit me to be supposed useful.”  Subsequently, when pressed to leave the marshy and deleterious air of Missolonghi, he replied, still more forcibly, “I cannot quit Greece while there is a chance of my being of (even supposed) utility.  There is a stake worth millions such as I am, and while I can stand at all I must stand by the cause.  While I say this, I am aware of the difficulties, and dissensions, and defects of the Greeks themselves; but allowance must be made for them by all reasonable people.”

After this attack of epilepsy Lord Byron because disinclined to pursue his scheme against Lepanto.  Indeed, it may be said that in his circumstances it was impracticable; for although the Suliotes repented of their insubordination, they yet had an objection to the service, and said “they would not fight against stone walls.”  All thought of the expedition was in consequence abandoned, and the destinies of poor Byron were hastening to their consummation.  He began to complain!

In speaking to Parry one day of the Greek Committee in London, he said, “I have been grossly ill-treated by the Committee.  In Italy Mr Blaquiere, their agent, informed me that every requisite supply would be forwarded with all despatch.  I was disposed to come to Greece, but I hastened my departure in consequence of earnest solicitations.  No time was to be lost, I was told, and Mr Blaquiere, instead of waiting on me at his return from Greece, left a paltry note, which gave me no information whatever.  If ever I meet with him, I shall not fail to mention my surprise at his conduct; but it has been all of a piece.  I wish the acting Committee had had some of the trouble which has fallen on me since my arrival here: they would have been more prompt in their proceedings, and would have known better what the country stood in need of.  They would not have delayed the supplies a day nor have sent out German officers, poor fellows, to starve at Missolonghi, but for my assistance.  I am a plain man, and cannot comprehend the use of printing-presses to a people who do not read.  Here the Committee have sent supplies of maps.  I suppose that I may teach the young mountaineers geography.  Here are bugle-horns without bugle-men, and it is a chance if we can find anybody in Greece to blow them.  Books are sent to people who want guns; they ask for swords, and the Committee give them the lever of a printing-press.

“My future intentions,” continued his Lordship, “as to Greece, may be explained in a few words.  I will remain here until she is secure against the Turks, or till she has fallen under their power.  All my income shall be spent in her service; but, unless driven by some great necessity, I will not touch a farthing of the sum intended for my sister’s children.  Whatever I can accomplish with my income, and my personal exertions, shall be cheerfully done.  When Greece is secure against external enemies, I will leave the Greeks to settle their government as they like.  One service more, and an eminent service it will be, I think I may perform for them.  You, Parry, shall have a schooner built for me, or I will buy a vessel; the Greeks shall invest me with the character of their ambassador, or agent: I will go to the United States, and procure that free and enlightened government to set the example of recognising the federation of Greece as an independent state.  This done, England must follow the example, and then the fate of Greece will be permanently fixed, and she will enter into all her rights as a member of the great commonwealth of Christian Europe.”

This intention will, to all who have ever looked at the effects of fortune on individuals, sufficiently show that Byron’s part in the world was nearly done.  Had he lived, and recovered health, it might have proved that he was then only in another lunation: his first was when he passed from poesy to heroism.  But as it was, it has only served to show that his mind had suffered by the decadency of his circumstances, and how much the idea of self-exaltation weakly entered into all his plans.  The business was secondary to the style in which it should be performed.  Building a vessel! why think of the conveyance at all? as if the means of going to America were so scarce that there might be difficulty in finding them.  But his mind was passing from him.  The intention was unsound—a fantasy—a dream of bravery in old age—begotten of the erroneous supposition that the cabinets of Christendom would remain unconcerned spectators of the triumph of the Greeks, or even of any very long procrastination of their struggle.

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