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of the Abbé de Rouffigny. The vacation of 1804 he spent with his mother at Southwell, and in October, 1805, he left Harrow, and entered o College, Cambridge. He left with feelings of sadness. He says, "I always hated Harrow till the last year and a half, but then I liked it.” He now began to feel that he was no longer a boy, and in solitude he mourned over the truth; this sorrow he could not at all times repress in public. Soon after entering college, he formed an attachmont with a youth named Eddleston, which exceeded in warmth and romance all his schoolboy attachments. In the summer of 1806, another visit to Southwell resulted in an acquaintance with the family of Pigots, to a lady of which the earliest of his published letters were addressed. The temper of his mother exceeded all bounds. This temper, Byron in a great degree inherited. In his childhood, this passion often broke out in the most violent manner. Mother and son were often quarrelling, and provocations finally led to a separation, in August, 1806. Byron fled to London, where his mother followed him, made overtures of peace, and a reconciliation was brought about. Early in November, his first volume of poems were put in press. It was entitled “Poems on Various Occasions,” and was printed anonymously by Mr. Ridge, a bookseller at Newark. Becoming dissatisfied with this, he caused a second edition to be printed in January, in which he omitted many pieces which had appeared in the first. This was not intended for public scrutiny, but merely circulated among his friends, and such persons as he thought well disposed towards the first effort of a young and inexpericnced author. Encouraged by its favorable reception, he again re-wrote i. ems, made many additions and alterations, under the name of “ Hours of Idleness," sent his volume forth to the public. This book, containing many indications of genius, also contained many errors .# taste and judgment, which were fiercely assailed by a critique" in the Edinburgh Review, and brought forth from Byron the stinging satire, “Englis Bards and Scotch Reviewers." The minor reviews gave the “Hours of Idleness” a better reception, yet we may, with no degree of unreasonableness, suppose that to the scorching words of the Edinburgh he owed much of future success and same. He was roused like a lion in its lair. He felt, though it might be true, he did not deserve such an article, and he resolutely determined to show the critic that he had talent and genius, 'hough the reviewer, in his eager search for its absence, could not discover its presence. Lord Byron supposed Jeffrey to be the author of the obnoxious article, and he poured out on him his vials of wrath and merciless satire. During the progress of his poem through the tess, he ...]". it more than a hundred lines. New impressions and influences gave birth to new thoughts, and he made his Bards and Reviewers carry them forth to vex and annoy his victims. The person who superintended its o through the press, daily received new matter for its pages; ind, in a note to that gentleman, Byron says, "Print soon, or I shall overflow with rhyme.” It was so in subsequent years. If he could reach his printer, he would continue to send his “thickcoming fancies,” which were suggested by perusals of what he had already written. On the 13th of March, he took his seat in the House of Lords, and on the middle of the same month published his satire. From the hour of its *ppearance, fame and fortune followed him. Its ouccess was such as to demand his attention in the tion of a second edition. To this much was and to it was prefixed his name.
His residence was now at Newstead, where, during the preparation of the new edition of his poems, he dispensed with a liberal hand the hospitalities of the old Abbey to a party of college friends. C. S. Matthews, one of this o: in a letter to an acquaintance, gives the following description of the Abbey at that time, and amusing account of the proceedings and habits of its occupants:— “Newstead Abbey is situated one hundred and thirty-six miles from London—four on this side Mansfield. Though sadly fallen to decay, it is still completely an abbey, and most part of it is still standing in the same state as when it was first built. There are two tiers of cloisters, witn a variety of cells and rooms about them, which, though not inhabited, nor in an inhabitable state might easily be made so; and many of the original rooms, amongst which is a fine stone hall, are still in use. Of the abbey-church only one end remains; and the old kitchen, with a long range of apartments, is reduced to a heap of . Leading from the abbey to the modern part of the habitation is a noble room, seventy feet in length and twenty-three in breadth; but every part of the house o: neglect and decay, save those which the present lord has lately fitted up. “The house and gardens are entirely surrounded by a wall, with battlements. In front is a large lake, bordered here and there with castellated buildings, the chief of which stands on an eminence at the further extremity of it. Fancy all this surrounded with bleak and barren hills, with scarce a tree to be seen for miles, except a solitary clump or two, and you will have some idea of Newstead. “So much for the place, concerning which I have thrown together these few particulars. But if the place itself appears rather strange to you, the ways of its inhabitants will not appear much less so. Ascend, then, with me the hall steps, that I may introduce you to my lord and his visitants. But have a care how #. proceed; be mindful to go there in broad daylight, and with your eyes about you. For, ...; you make any blunders,-should you go to the right of the hall steps, you are laid hold of by a bear; and should you go to the left, your case is still worse, for you run full against a wolf.” Nor, when you have attained the door, is your danger over; for the hall being decayed, and therefore standing in need of repair, a bevy of inmates are very o banging at one end of it with their pistols; so that if you enter without giving loud notice of your approach, you have only escaped the wolf i the bear, to expire by the pistol-shots o' the merry monks of Newstead. “Our party consisted of Lord Byron and four others, and was, now and then, increased by the presence of a neighboring parson. As for our way of living, the order of the day was generally this:— for breakfast we had no set hour, but each suited his own convenience,—every thing remaining on the table till the whole party i. done; though had one wished to breakfast at the early hour of ten, one would have been rather lucky to find any of the servants up. Our average hour of rising was one. I, who generally got up between eleven and twelve, was always—even when an invalid— the first of the party, and was esteemed a prodigy of early rising. It was frequently past two before the breakfast party broke up. Then, for the amusement of the morning, there was reading, fencing, single-stick, or shuttlecock, in the great room; practising with pistols in the hall; walking, riding, cricket, sailing on the lake, playing with the bear teasing the wolf. Between seven and eight we dined; and our evening lasted from that time til. one, two, or three in the morning. The evening diversions may be easily conceived. “I must not omit the custom of handing round, after dinner, on the removal of the cloth, a human
* Lord Byren's pet annimals at Newstead.
skull filled with Burgundy. After revelling on choice viands, and the finest wines of France, we adjourned to tea, where we amused ourselves with reading or improving conversation,-each accordin to his fancy, and, after sandwiches, &c., retire to rest. A set of monkish dresses, which had been provided, with all the proper apparatus of crosses, beads, tonsures, &c., often gave a variety to our appearance, and to our pursuits.” yron was at London when he put the finishing touches upon the new edition, which, having done, he took leave of that city, and soon after sailed for Lisbon, After a passage of four days, he arrived at his destination, in company with his friend, Mr. John Cam Hobhouse. They remained but a short time in Lisbon, from whence they travelled on liorseback to Seville and Cadiz. He was as free and easy in each of these places as he had been at home. In Lisbon, as he said, he ate oranges, talked bad Italian to the monks, went into society with pocket F. swam the Tagus, and became the victim of musquitoes. In Seville, a lady of character became fondly attached to him, and at F. gave him a lock of her hair “three feet in ength,” which he sent home to his mother. In Cadiz, “Miss Cordova and her little brother" became his favorites, and the former his preceptress in Spanish. He alludes to this in one of his poems.
“'Tis pleasing to be school'd in a strange tongue By semale lips and eyes—that is, 1 mean. When both the teacher and the taught are young, As was the case, at least, where l have been.”
1.eaving Cadiz, in the Hyperion frigate, he sailed for Gibralter, where he remained till the 19th of August, when he left for Malta. At this latter place, he formed an acquaintance with Mrs. Spencer Smith, a lady whose life had been fertile with remarkable incidents, and whom he addresses, in his poetry, under the name of * Florence.” After remaining at anchor for three or four days off Patras, Byron and his friend proceeded to their ultimate destination. On their passage, they had a most charming sunset view of Missolonghi. They landed at Prevesa on the 29th of September. From Prevesa they journeyed to the capital of Albania, and, soon after, to Yanina; at which place he learned that Ali Pacha was with his troops in Illyrium, besieging Ibrahim Pacha in Berat. From Yanina, Lord Byron, passed to Tepaleen. Being among the first English travellers in that part of the world, they met with much attention, and the greatest show of hospitality. With the intention of going to Patras, Lord Byron embarked on board a Turkish ship of war, provided for him by Ali Pacha. A moderate gale of wind arose, and, owing to the ignorance of the Turkish officers, the vessel came near being wrecked. Luckily for all on board, the wind abated, and drove them on the coast of Suli, where they landed, and, by aid of the natives, returned again to Prevesa. While at the Suliote village, a poor but honest Albanian supplied his wants. Byron pressed him to take money in return for his kindness, but he refused, with the reply, “I wish you to love me, not to pay me.” Attended by a guard of forty or more Albanians, they passed through Acarnania and Etolia to Missolonghi, crossed the Gulf of Corinth to Patras, and proceeded from thence, by land, to Vostizza, where they caught the first glimpse of Mount Parnassus. In a small boat they were conveyed to the §l. shore of the gulf; rode on horseback from Salona to Delphi, and after travelling through Livadia, and making a brief stop at Thebes, and other laces, arrived at Athens on the 25th of Decemer. He remained at Athens between two and three months, employing his time in visiting the vast and splendid monuments of ancient genius, and calling
around him from the depths of solitude the spirits of other times to people its ruins. He made frequent excursions to Attica, on on of which he came near being seized by a band on pirates dwelling in a cave under the cliffs of Minerva Sunias. His beautiful song, “Maid of Athens, ere we part,” was addressed to the eldest daughter of the Greek lady, at whose house he lodged. Ten weeks had flown rapidly and pleasantly away, when the unexpected offer of a passage in a British sloop of war to Smyrna, induced the travellers to leave Athens, which they did, on the 5th of March, with much reluctance. At Smyrna, Lord Byron resided in the house of the Consul-General. In the course of his residence here, he made a three-day visit to the ruins of Ephesus. While at S.. he finished the two first cantos of “Childe Harold,” which he had commenced five months before at Joannina. The Salsette frigate being about to sail for Constantinople, Lord Byron and Hobhouse took passage in her. It was while this frigate lay at anchor in the Dardanelles, that Byron accomplished his famous feat of swimming the Hellespont. The distance across was about two miles; but the tide ran so strong that a direct course could not be pursued, and he swam three miles. He arrived at Constantinople on the 13th of May While there, he wore a scarlet coat, richly embroidered with gold, with two heavy epaulettes and f feathered cocked hat. He remained about twc months, during which time he was presented to the Sultan, and made a journey to the Black Sen and other places of note in that vicinity. On the 14th of July, they left in the Salsette frigate, Mr. Hobhouse intending to accompany Mr. Adair, the English ambassador, to England, and Byron determined to visit Greece. The latter landed at Zea, with two Albanians, a Tartar, and his English servant. Leaving Zea, he reached Athens on the 18th. From thence, he mad another tour over the same places he had previousl visited, and returned to Athens in December, wit the purpose of remaining there during his sojourn in Greece. The persons with whom he associated at Athens, were Lord Sligo, Lady Hester Stanhope, and Mr. Bruce. Most of his time was employed in collecting materials for those notes on the state of modern Greece, appended to the second canto of Childe Harold. Here also he wrote, “Hints from Horace,” a satire full of London life, yet, singular as it may appear, dated, “Athens, Capuchin Con vent, March 12, 1811.” He intended to have gone to Egypt, but failing to receive expected remittances, he was obliged to forego the pleasure of that trip, and he left Athena and ..f at Malta. There he suffered severely from an attack of fever, recovering from which, he sailed in the Volage frigate for England. He left Greece with more feelings of regret than he had left his native land, and the memories of his sojourn in the East, immortalized in Childe Harold, were among the pleasantest that accompanied him through life. He arrived at London after an absence of just two fears. Mr. Dallas, the gentleman who had superintended the publication of “English Bards and Scotch Reviewers,” called on him the day after his arrival; Lord Byron mentioned having written a new satire, and handed the MSS. to him for examination. Mr. Dallas was grieved, supposing that the inspiring lands of the East had brought from his mind no richer poetical works. Meeting him the next morning, Mr. Dallas expressed surprise that he had, during his absence written nothing more. Upon this, Lord Byron told him that he had occasionally written short poems besides a great many stanzas in Spenser's measure,
relative to the countries he had visited. They -re not worth troubling you with,” said Byron, “but shall have them all with you, if you like.” §: took Childe Harold's Pilgrimage from a small trunk, and handed it to Mr. Dallas, at the same time expressing a desire to have the “Hints from Horace ut to press immediately. He undervalued Childe Harold, and overvalued the "Hints.” He thought the former inferior to the latter. As time passed on, he altered his mind in reference to this matter. “Had Lord Byron,” says Moore, “persisted in his original purpose of giving this poem to the press, instead of Childe Harold, it is more than probable, that he would nave been lost, as a great poet to the world.” He finally consented to the publication of Childe Harold, yet, to the last, he expressed doubts as to its merit, and the reception it would meet with at the hands of the public. Doubts and difficulties arose as to a publisher. Messrs. Longman had retood to publish “English Bards and Scotch Renewers;” and it was expressly stipulated with Mr. Dallas, to whom Lord Byron had presented the topyright, that Childe Harold should not be offered to that house. An application was made to Mr. Miller, but owing to the severity in which a perional friend of that gentleman was mentioned, in the poem, he declin Fo: it. At length it passed into the hands of Mr. }o then residing in Fleet street, who was proud of the undertaking, and by whom it was immediately put to press;– and thus was laid the foundation of that friendly ind profitable connection, between that publisher and the author, which continued, with but little interruption, during the poet's life.” About this time, the fifth edition of his satire was issued, and, soon after, every * that could be found was taken and destroyed. In America, however, and on the continent, where the law of England had no power, it continued to meet with an unprohibited sale. whic busily engaged in literary projects, he was suddenly called to Newstead, by information of the sickness of his mother. He immediately departed, and travelled with all possible speed, yet death preteled him. When he arrived, he found her dead. In a letter, the day after, he says, “I now feel the truth of Mr. Gray's observation, “we can only have one mother.’” rs. Byron had, undoubtedly, loved her son, and he her, with a depth of feeling hardly supposable by those who had seen them in their fits of ungovernable passion. An incident that occurred at Newstead, at this time, proves the sincerity of his affection. On the night after his arrival, the waiting woman of Mrs. Byron, in passinz the door of the room, where the deceased body lay, heard a sound as of some one sighing heavily from within; and, on entering the chamber, found, to her surprise, Lord Byron, sitting in the dark, beside the bed. On her representing to him the weakness of thus giving way to grief, he burst into
tears, and exclaimed, “O, Mrs. By, I had but one friend in the world, and she is gone!” He was called at this time to mourn over the loss not only of his mother, but of six relatives and intimate friends. He returned to London in October, and resumed the toils of literary labor, revising Childe Harold, and making many additions and alterations. He had, also, at this time, two other works in press, “Hints from Horace,” and “The Curse of Minerva.” In January, the two cantos of Childe Harold were printed, but not ready for sale until the month of March, when “the effect it produced on the ublic,” says Moore, “was as instantaneous as it as proved deep and lasting. It was electric;—his fame had not to wait for any of the ordinary gradations, but seemed to spring up, like the palace of a fairy tale, in a night.” Byron, himself, in a memoranda of the sudden and wholly unexpected effect, said, “I awoke one morning, and found myself famous.” It was just previous to this period, that he became acquainted with Moore, the poet. The circumstance which led to their acquaintance was a correspondence caused by a note appended to * ... Bards and Scotch Reviewers.” The acquaintance thus formed, was continued, with the utmost familiarity, through life. Lord Byron was ersonally introduced to Moore at the house of ogers, the poet, where, on the same day, these three, together with Campbell, dined Among the many tributes to his genius, which Lord Byron received, was that of the Prince Regent. At an evening party he was presented to that personage, at the request of the latter. The Regent expressed his admiration of Childe Harold and entered into a long and animated conversation, which continued all the evening. In the month of August, 1811, the new theatre ill Drury Lane was finished, and, after being urgently requested, Byron wrote an opening address for the occasion e now resided at Cheltenham, where, in addition to the address, he wrote a poem on “Waltzing.” In May, appeared “The Giaour,” which o t too several editions. The first contained but about four hundred lines, the last edition, about fourteen hundred. Many of its choicest parts were not in the early copies, yet it was received with the greatest favor, and the admirers of Childe Harold equally admired this new product of the mind of its author. In December, 1813, he published “The Bride ot Abydos." To this, while being printed, he added nearly two hundred lines. It met with a better reception, if possible, than either of his former works Fourteen thousand copies were sold in one week, and it was with the greatest difficulty and labor that the demand for it could be supplied. In Januar o; appeared the “The Corsair.” In Apri the “Ode to Napoleon,” and, during the ensuing month, he published “Hebrew Melodies.” In May, he adopted the strange and singular reso lution of calling in all he had written, buying up all his copyrights, and not writing any more. Fotwo years, he had been the literary idol of the peo ple. They had bestowed upon him the highest words of praise, and shouted his genius and fame to the skies. His name had ever been on the lips, his writings in the head, and his sentiments in the heart of the great public. This strong popularity began to wane, as the excitement caused by the sudden appearance of any new thing, always will.
The papers raised a hue and cry against a few of his minor | ". His moral and social character was brought into prominency; all that had occurred
during his short, but eventful life, and much that had never an existence, except in the minds of his opponents, was related with minute particulality Not only this, but the slight opinion these journa
ists expressed of his genius, -seconded. as it wan by that inward dissatisfaction with his own powers which they, whose standard of excellence is highest, are always surest to feel, mortified and disturbed him. In noticing these attacks, he remarks, “I am afraid what you call trash is plaguily to the purose; and, to tell the truth, for some time past, I ave been myself much of the same opinion.”. In this state of mind, he resolved upon bidding farewell to the muses, and betaking himself to some other pursuit. Mentioning this determination to Mr. Murray, that gentleman doubted his seriousness; but on the arrival of a letter, enclosing a 3raft for the amount of the copyrights, and a request to withdraw all the advertisements, and destroy all copies of his poems, remaining in store, except two of each for himself, all doubts varished. Mr. Murray wrote an answer, that such an act would be deeply injurious to both parties, and finally induced him to continue publishing. In connection with “Jacqueline,” a poem, by Mr. Rogers, “Lara" appeared in August. This was his last appearance as an author, until the spring of 1816. On the 2d of January, 1815, Lord Byron proFo and was accepted in marriage, by an heiress, Miss Milbanke, daughter of Sir Ralph Milbanke, a baronet, in the county of Durham. Her fortune was upwards of ten thousand pounds sterling, which was considerably increased by the death of her parents, a few years subsequent to her union with the oet. This union cast a shade on his hitherto right career. A twelve-months' extravagance, embarrassments, and misunderstandings, dissolved it, and the lady retired to the country-seat of her arents, from the unpleasant scenes of her own ome. One child was the result of this marriage, Ada Augusta Byron. Previous to the separation, Byron's muse was stimulated to exertion by his fast-gathering misfortunes, and he produced the “Siege of Corinth '' and “Parisina.” At the time of their separation, Iord Byron and Lady Byron resided in London. He entered into a giddy whirlpool of frolicking and unrestrained gaiety, which at length brought upon him great pecuniary embarrassments, which so increased, that in November, he was not only obliged to sell his library, but his furniture, and even his beds, were seized by the bailiffs. As soon as the separation took place, the full tide of J. opinion set against him, and those who had sought his acquaintance, coveted his friendship, and envied him his position, were among his deadliest foes and his most slanderous vilifiers. “In every form of paragraph, pamphlet and caricature, ooth his o and character were held up to odium hardly a voice was raised, or at least listened to, il, his behalf; and though a few faithful friends remained unshaken by his side, the utter hopelessness of stemming the torrent, was felt as well by them, as by himself; and after an effort or two to gain a fair hearing, they submitted in silence.” Thus, miserable, , yet conscious of his newlyawakening strength, Byron determined to leave England. At leaving, the only person with whom he parted with regret, was his sister, and to her he penned the touching tribute, “Though the Day of my Destiny's over.” To Mr. Moore he addressed, “My Boat is on the Shore; ” and to Lady Byron, “Fare thee well.” He sailed for Ostend on the 25th of April. His É. lay by the Rhine. He made a short stay at russels. At Geneva he spent the remainder of the bummer; living in a beautiful villa on the borders of the lake. While there, he made frequent excursions to Coppet, Chamouni, the Bernese Alps, and other places of interest. Mr. and Mrs. Shelley were also residing at Geneva at that time. It was in this villa, on the banks of the lake, that he finished the third canto of “Childe Harold.” He also wrote “The Prisoner of Chillon,” stanzas “To Augusta," The Fragment,” “Darkness,” and “The Dream." In the manth of August he was visited by Mr.
M. G. Lewis, Mr. Hobhouse und Mr. S. Davies with whom he made the exculsions previously al luded to. It was while here, that he began his prost romance of “The Vampire; " also another, founded upon the story of the Marriage of Belphegor, both p which he left unfinished. From the commencement of the year 1817, to that of 1820, Lord Byron's principal residence was at Venice. Soon after reaching that city, he begun the study of the Armenian language, in which he made considerable progress. hile there, he pursued his literary labors with much diligence and success. He wrote “The Lament of Tasso,” the fourth canto of “Childe Harold,” the drainas of “Marino Faliero,” and the “Two Foscari;” “Bep#. “Mazeppa,” and the first cantos of “Don uan.”
He formed an acquaintance with Madame Guiccioli, which soon grew to a passionate love, and was duly reciprocated by her. She was a Romagnese lady. Her father was Count Gamba, a nobleman of i. rank and ancient name, at Ravenna. She had been married, when at the age of sixteen, without reference to her choice or affection, to the Count Guiccioli, an old and wealthy widower. At the time Byron was introduced to her, she was about twenty; with fair and delicate complexion, large, dark eyes, and a profusion of auburn hair. This lady almost o; governed the movements of o while in Italy; and it was a government which he appeared to love, and from which he mala ifested no desire to escape. She proceeded with her husband to Ravenna, in April, 1819, and Lord Byron soon followed. He ..". to Venice, where he received a visit from Moore, in the course of which he presented to him a large manuscript volume, entitled, “ * Life and Adventures.” As he handed it to him, he re marked, “It is not a thing that can be published during my lifetime; but you may have it, if you like, -there, do whatever you please with it; ” and soon after added, “This will make a nice legacy for my little Tom, who shall astonish the latter days of the nineteenth century with it.” This manuscript was a collection of various journals, memorandas, etc. At Byron's request, Mr. Moore sold the copyright to Murray for two thousand pounds, with the stipulation that it was not to be published until after the author's decease. When that event occurred, Mr. Moore returned to Mr. Murray the money advanced, and placed the manuscript at the disposal of Lord Byron's sister, Mrs. Leigh; at whose request, and, with the accordant opinion of Lord Byron's best friends, it was destroyed. The motive for its destruction is said to have been an unwillingness to offend the feelings of many of the individuals mentioned in it. Towards the close of the year 1819, Lord Byron removed to Ravenna, where #. wrote “The Prophecy of Dante,” “Sardanapalus,” “Cain,” “Heaven and Earth,” the third, fourth and fifth cantos of “Don Juan,” and “The Vision of Judgment." He remained at Ravenna during the greater part of the two succeeding years. In the autumn of 1821 he removed to #. in Tuscany, where he remained until the middle of May. His habits of life, while at Pisa, are thus described by Moore:“At two, he usually breakfasted, and at three, or, as the year advanced, four o'clock, those persons who were in the habit of accompanying him in his rides, called upon him. After, occasionally, a game of billiards, he proceeded,—and in order to avoid stares, in his carriage, as far as the gates of the town, where his horses met him. At first, the route he chose for these rides was in the direction of the Cascine, and of the pine forest that reaches towards the sea; but having found a spot more convenient for his pistol exercise, on the road leading from Portalla Spiaggia to the east of the city, he took daily this course during the remainder of his stay
| When arrived at the Podere, or farm, in the garden xt which to ev were allowed to erect their target, his *iends and he dismounted, and, after devotin | about half an hour to a trial of skill at the pisto y returned, a little before sunset, into the city.” Leaving Pisa, he removed to Genoa, where he remained till his final departure for Greece, in July, 1823. During this time, he produced, “Werner,” "The Deformed Transformed,” “The Island,” i. Age of Bronze,” and the last cantos of “Don | uan.” He became interested in the struggle of the Greeks for freedom, and offered his services in their vehalf. He obtained the advance of a large sum of money, and chartered an English vessel, the Hercules, for the purpose of taking him to Greece. All things being ready, on the 13th of July, he, and those who were to accompany him, embarked. | His suite consisted of Count Pietro Gamba, brother of the Countess Guiccioli; Mr. Trelawny, an Englishman; and Doctor Bruno, an Italian physician, who had just left the university, and was somewhat acquainted with surgery. He had, also, at his serrio. eight servants. There were on board five horses, arms and ammunition for the use of his own party, and medicine enough for the supply of one thousand men for one
year. On the morning of the 14th of July, the Hercules tailed; but, encountering a severe storm, was obliged to put back. On the evening of the 15th, they again started, and after a passage of five days, rathed Leghorn, where they shipped a supply of gunpowder, and other English goods. Receiving these, they immediately sailed for Cephalonia, and reached Argolosti, the principal port of that island, on the 21st of July. He was warmly received by the Greeks and English, among whom his presence oted a lively sensation. Wishing information, in order to determine u the best course for him to pursue, he despatched Mr. Trelawny and Mr. Hamilton Browne with a letter to the Greek government, in order to obtain An account of the state of public affairs. Here, as in many other places, he displayed his generosity, by relieving the distressed, .. ad fled from Scio. He was delayed at Argolosti about six weeks, by adverse winds. At length, the wind becoming fair, he embarked on board the Mistico, and Count Gamba, with the horses and heavy baggage, in a large vessel. The latter was brought to by a Turkish frigate, and carried, with its valuable cargo, into Patras, | *here the commander of the Turkish fleet was stationed. Count Gamba had an interview with the Parha, and was so fortunate as to obtain the release of his vessel and freight; and sailing, reached Mistolonghi on the 4th of January. He was surprised to learn that Lord Byron had not arrived. | Qi, his Lordship's departure from Dragomestri, a Violent gale came on, and the vessel was twice driven into imminent danger on the rocks; and it ***, owing to Lord Byron's firmness and nautical skill, that the vessel, several lives, and twenty-five thousand dollars, were saved. It was while at Dragomestri, that an imprudent bath brought on a cold, which was the foundation of that sickness which resulted in his death. He reached Missolonghi on the 5th of January, and was received with enthusiastic demonstrations of joy. No mark of welcome or honor that the Greeks could devise, was omitted. One of the first acts of Lord Byron, was an at‘etopt to mitigate the ferocity of war. He rescued * Turk from the hands of some sailors, kept him at his house a few days, until an opportunity occurred to end him to Patras. He sent four Turkish priswners to the Turkish Chief of Patras, and requested that prisoners, on both sides, be henceforward treated with humanity. t Fortuing a corps of Suliotes, he equipped them * his own expense. They numbered about six
hundred, brave and hardy mountaineers, but wholly undisciplined and unmanageable. Of these, having obtained a commission, he, on the first of Febru: ary, took the command. An expedition against Lepanto was proposed; but, owing to some difficulty with the rude and riot ous soldiery, it was suspended. Disease, now began to prey upon him, and he was attacked with a fit of epilepsy on the 15th of February, which deprived him, for a short time, of his senses. On the following morning, he appeared to be much better, but still quite ill. On the 9th of April, after returning from a ride with Count Gamba, during which they had met a violent shower, he was again prostrated with disease. He was seized with shuddering, and complained of rheumatic pains. The following day he arose at his accustomed hour, transacted business, and rode into the olive woods, accompanied by his long train of Suliotes. On the 11th his fever increased ; and on the 12th he kept his bed all day, complaining that he could not sleep, and taking no nourishment whatever. The two following days, he suffered much from pains in the head, though his fever had subsided. On the 14th, Dr. Bruno, finding sudorifics unavailing, urged the necessity of his being bled. But of this Lord Byron would not hear. At length, however, after repeated entreaties, he promised that, should his fever increase, he would allow it to be done. He was bled; but the relief did not answer the expectations of any one. The restlessness and agitation increased, and he spoke several times in an incoherent manner. On the 17th, it was repeated. His disease continued to increase; he had not, till now, thought himself dangerously ill; but now, the fearful truth was apparent, not only in his own feelings, but in the countenances and actions of his
n|friends and attendants.
A consultation of physicians was had. Soon after, a fit of delirium ensued, and he began to talk wildly, calling out, half in English, half in Italian, “Forwards!—forwards!—courage —follow my example !” &c., &c. n Fletcher's asking him whether he should bring pen and paper to take down his words, he replied:—“Oh, no, there is no time—it is now nearly over. Go to my sister-tell her—go to Lady Byron —you will see her—and say—" Here his voice faltered, and became gradually indistinct. He continued speaking in a low, whispering tone. “M Lord,” replied Fletcher, “I have not understoo a word your Lordship has been saying.”, “Not understood me!” exclaimed Byron, with a look of distress, “what a pity!—then it is too late;—all is over.” “I hope not,” answered Fletcher; but the Lord's will be done !” “Yes, not mine,” said Byron. He then attempted to say something; but nothing was intelligible, except “my sister—my child.” About six o'clock in the evening of the 19th, he said, “Now I shall go to sleep; ”, and, turning round, fell into that slumber from which he never awoke. The sad intelligence was received by the people of Missolonghi with feelings of sorrow, which we are unable to describe; and all Europe was in mourning over the lamentable event, as its tidings spread through its cities, towns, and villages. It was but a short time previous, that the Greeks were inspired by his presence, and inspirited by the touch of his ever-powerful $."; Now, all was over. The future triumphs which they had pictured forth for their country's freedom, vanished. Their bright hopes departed, and lamentation filled hearts lately buoyant with rejoicing. In various parts of Greece, honors were paid to his memory. The funeral ceremony took place in the church of St. Nicholas. His remains were carried on the
shoulders of the officers of his corps On his coffin