Byron: The Last Phase Part 9

'Lord Byron was carried upstairs to his own bed, and complained only of weakness. He asked whether his attack was likely to prove fatal.

"Let me know," he said. "Do not think I am afraid to die--I am not."

He told me that when he lost his speech he did not lose his senses; that he had suffered great pain, and that he believed, if the convulsion had lasted a minute longer, he must have died.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The following note, which is entered by Mr. Rowland Prothero in the new edition of Lord Byron's 'Letters and Journals,'[21] was dashed off by Byron in pencil, on the day of his seizure, February 15, 1824:

'Having tried in vain at great expense, considerable trouble, and some danger, to unite the Suliotes for the good of Greece--and their own--I have come to the following resolution:

'I will have nothing more to do with the Suliotes. They may go to the Turks, or the Devil,--they may cut me into more pieces than they have dissensions among themselves,--sooner than change my resolution.

'For the rest, I hold my means and person at the disposal of the Greek nation and Government the same as before.'

No better proof could be given of the perplexities which worried him at that particular time. But the surrounding gloom was lightened now and then by some of Parry's stories. The following anecdote about Jeremy Bentham was an especial favourite with Byron; Parry's sea-terms and drollery doubtless heightened its effect:

'Shortly before I left London for Greece, Mr. Bowring, the honorary secretary to the Greek Committee, informed me that Mr. Jeremy Bentham wished to see the stores and materials, preparing for the Greeks, and that he had done me the honour of asking me to breakfast with him some day, that I might afterwards conduct him to see the guns, etc.

'"Who the devil is Mr. Bentham?" was my rough reply; "I never heard of him before." Many of my readers may still be in the same state of ignorance, and it will be acceptable to them, I hope, to hear of the philosopher.

'"Mr. Bentham," said Mr. Bowring, "is one of the greatest men of the age, and for the honour now offered to you, I waited impatiently many a long day--I believe for more than two years."

'"Great or little, I never heard of him before; but if he wants to see me, why I'll go."

'It was accordingly arranged that I should visit Mr. Bentham, and that Mr. Bowring should see him to fix the time, and then inform me. In a day or two afterwards, I received a note from the honorary secretary to say I was to breakfast with Mr. Bentham on Sat.u.r.day. It happened that I lived at a distance from town, and having heard something of the primitive manner of living and early hours of philosophers, I arranged with my wife overnight that I would get up very early on the Sat.u.r.day morning, that I might not keep Mr. Bentham waiting.

Accordingly, I rose with the dawn, dressed myself in haste, and brushed off for Queen's Square, Westminster, as hard as my legs could carry me. On reaching the Strand, fearing I might be late, being rather corpulent, and not being willing to go into the presence of so very great a man, as I understood Mr. Jeremy Bentham to be, puffing and blowing, I took a hackney-coach and drove up to his door about eight o'clock. I found a servant girl afoot, and told her I came to breakfast with Mr. Bentham by appointment.

'She ushered me in, and introduced me to two young men, who looked no more like philosophers, however, than my own children. I thought they might be Mr. Bentham's sons, but this, I understood, was a mistake. I showed them the note I had received from Mr. Bowring, and they told me Mr. Bentham did not breakfast till three o'clock. This surprised me much, but they told me I might breakfast with them, which I did, though I was not much flattered by the honour of sitting down with Mr.

Bentham's clerks, when I was invited by their master. Poor Mr.

Bowring! thought I, he must be a meek-spirited young man if it was for this he waited so impatiently. I supposed the philosopher himself did not get up till noon, as he did not breakfast till so late, but in this I was also mistaken. About ten o'clock I was summoned to his presence, and mustered up all my courage and all my ideas for the meeting. His appearance struck me forcibly. His thin white locks, cut straight in the fas.h.i.+on of the Quakers, and hanging, or rather floating, on his shoulders; his garments something of Quaker colour and cut, and his frame rather square and muscular, with no exuberance of flesh, made up a singular-looking and not an inelegant old man. He welcomed me with a few hurried words, but without any ceremony, and then conducted me into several rooms to show me _his_ ammunition and materials of war. One very large room was nearly filled with books, and another with unbound works, which, I understood, were the philosopher's own composition. The former, he said, furnished him his supplies; and there was a great deal of labour required to read so many volumes. I said inadvertently, "I suppose you have quite forgotten what is said in the first before you read the last." Mr.

Bentham, however, took this in good part, and, taking hold of my arm, said we would proceed on our journey. Accordingly, off we set, accompanied by one of his young men carrying a portfolio, to keep, I suppose, a log of our proceedings.

'We went through a small garden, and, pa.s.sing out of a gate, I found we were in St. James's Park. Here I noticed that Mr. Bentham had a very snug dwelling, with many accommodations, and such a garden as belongs in London only to the first n.o.bility. But for his neighbours, I thought--for he has a barrack of soldiers on one side of his premises--I should envy him his garden more than his great reputation. On looking at him, I could but admire his hale, and even venerable, appearance. I understood he was seventy-three years of age, and therefore I concluded we should have a quiet, comfortable walk.

Very much to my surprise, however, we had scarcely got into the Park, when he let go my arm, and set off trotting like a Highland messenger.

The Park was crowded, and the people one and all seemed to stare at the old man; but, heedless of all this, he trotted on, his white locks floating in the wind, as if he were not seen by a single human being.

'As soon as I could recover from my surprise, I asked the young man, "Is Mr. Bentham flighty?" pointing to my head. "Oh no, it's his way,"

was the hurried answer; "he thinks it good for his health. But I must run after him;" and off set the youth in chase of the philosopher. I must not lose my companions, thought I, and off I set also. Of course the eyes of every human being in the Park were fixed on the running veteran and his pursuers. There was Jerry ahead, then came his clerk and his portfolio, and I, being a heavier sailer than either, was bringing up the rear.

'What the people might think, I don't know; but it seemed to me a very strange scene, and I was not much delighted at being made such an object of attraction. Mr. Bentham's activity surprised me, and I never overtook him or came near him till we reached the Horse Guards, where his speed was checked by the Blues drawn up in array. Here we threaded in amongst horses and men till we escaped at the other gate into Whitehall. I now thought the crowded streets would prevent any more racing; but several times he escaped from us, and trotted off, compelling us to trot after him till we reached Mr. Galloway's manufactory in Smithfield. Here he exulted in his activity, and inquired particularly if I had ever seen a man at his time of life so active. I could not possibly answer no, while I was almost breathless with the exertion of following him through the crowded streets. After seeing at Mr. Galloway's manufactory, not only the things which had been prepared for the Greeks, but his other engines and machines, we proceeded to another manufactory at the foot of Southwark Bridge, where our brigade of guns stood ready mounted. When Mr. Bentham had satisfied his curiosity here also, and I had given him every information in my power, we set off to return to his house, that he might breakfast; I endeavoured to persuade him to take a hackney-coach, but in vain. We got on tolerably well, and without any adventures, tragical or comical, till we arrived at Fleet Street. We crossed from Fleet Market over towards Mr. Waithman's shop, and here, letting go my arm, he quitted the foot pavement, and set off again in one of his vagaries up Fleet Street. His clerk again set off after him, and I again followed. The race here excited universal attention.

The perambulating ladies, who are always in great numbers about that part of the town, and ready to laugh at any kind of oddity, and catch hold of every simpleton, stood and stared at or followed the venerable philosopher. One of them, well known to all the neighbourhood by the appellation of the _City Barge_, given to her on account of her extraordinary bulk, was coming with a consort full sail down Fleet Street, but whenever they saw the flight of Mr. Jeremy Bentham they hove to, tacked, and followed to witness the fun or share the prize. I was heartily ashamed of partic.i.p.ating in this scene, and supposed that everybody would take me for a mad doctor, the young man for my a.s.sistant, and Mr. Bentham for my patient, just broke adrift from his keepers.

'Fortunately the chase did not continue long. Mr. Bentham hove to abreast of Carlisle's shop, and stood for a little time to admire the books and portraits hanging in the window. At length one of them arrested his attention more particularly. "Ah, ah," said he, in a hurried indistinct tone, "there it is, there it is!" pointing to a portrait which I afterwards found was that of the ill.u.s.trious Jeremy himself.

'Soon after this, I invented an excuse to quit Mr. Bentham and his man, promising to go to Queen's Square to dine. I was not, however, to be again taken in by the philosopher's meal hours; so, laying in a stock of provisions, I went at his dining hour, half-past ten o'clock, and supped with him. We had a great deal of conversation, particularly about mechanical subjects and the art of war. I found the old gentleman as lively with his tongue as with his feet, and pa.s.sed a very pleasant evening; which ended by my pointing out, at his request, a plan for playing his organ by the steam of his tea-kettle.

'This little story,' says Parry, 'gave Byron a great deal of pleasure.

He very often laughed as I told it; he laughed much at its conclusion.

He declared, when he had fished out every little circ.u.mstance, that he would not have lost it for 1,000 guineas. Lord Byron frequently asked me to repeat what he called: _Jerry Bentham's Cruise_.'

Parry tells us that Byron took a great interest in all that concerned the welfare of the working cla.s.ses, and particularly of the artisans.

'I have lately read,' said Byron on one occasion, 'of an inst.i.tution lately established in London for the instruction of mechanics. I highly approve of this, and intend to subscribe 50 to it; but I shall at the same time write and give my opinion on the subject. I am always afraid that schemes of this kind are intended to deceive people; and, unless all the offices in such an inst.i.tution are filled with real practical mechanics, the working cla.s.ses will soon find themselves deceived. If they permit any but mechanics to have the direction of their affairs, they will only become the tools of others. The real working man will soon be ousted, and his more cunning pretended friends will take possession and reap all the benefits. It gives me pleasure to think what a ma.s.s of natural intellect this will call into action. If the plan succeeds, and I hope it may, the ancient aristocracy of England will be secure for ages to come. The most useful and numerous body of people in the nation will then judge for themselves, and, when properly informed, will judge correctly. There is not on earth a more honourable body of men than the English n.o.bility; and there is no system of government under which life and property are better secured than under the British const.i.tution.

'The mechanics and working cla.s.ses who can maintain their families are, in my opinion, the happiest body of men. Poverty is wretchedness; but it is perhaps to be preferred to the heartless, unmeaning dissipation of the higher orders. I am thankful that I am now entirely clear of this, and my resolution to remain clear of it for the rest of my life is immutable.'

Parry remarks that it would be folly to attribute to Byron any love for democracy, as the term was then understood. Although the bent of his mind was more Liberal than Conservative, he was not a party man in its narrow sense. He was a sworn foe to injustice, cruelty, and oppression; such was the alpha and omega of his political prejudices. He would be an inveterate enemy to any Government which oppressed one cla.s.s for the benefit of another cla.s.s, and which did not allow its subjects to be free and happy.

In speaking of America, Byron said:

'I have always thought the mode in which the Americans separated from Great Britain was unfortunate for them. It made them despise or regret everything English. They disinherited themselves of all the historical glory of England; there was nothing left for them to admire or venerate but their own immediate success, and they became egotists, like savages, from wanting a history. The spirit of jealousy and animosity excited by the contests between England and America is now subsiding. Should peace continue, prejudices on both sides will gradually decrease. Already the Americans are beginning, I think, to cultivate the antiquities of England, and, as they extend their inquiries, they will find other objects of admiration besides themselves. It was of some importance, both for them and for us, that they did not reject our language with our government. Time, I should hope, will approximate the inst.i.tutions of both countries to one another; and the use of the same language will do more to unite the two nations than if they both had only one King.'

CHAPTER X

According to Gamba's journal, on the day following the seizure to which we have referred, Byron followed up his former efforts to inculcate the principles and practice of humanity into both the nations engaged in the war. There were twenty-four Turks, including women and children, who had suffered all the rigours of captivity at Missolonghi since the beginning of the revolution. Byron caused them to be released, and sent at his own cost to Prevesa. The following letter, which he addressed to the English Consul at that port, deserves a place in this record:

'SIR,

'Coming to Greece, one of my princ.i.p.al objects was to alleviate as much as possible the miseries incident to a warfare so cruel as the present. When the dictates of humanity are in question, I know no difference between Turks and Greeks. It is enough that those who want a.s.sistance are men, in order to claim the pity and protection of the meanest pretender to humane feelings. I have found here twenty-four Turks, including women and children, who have long pined in distress, far from the means of support and the consolations of their home. The Government has consigned them to me: I transmit them to Prevesa, whither they desire to be sent. I hope you will not object to take care that they may be restored to a place of safety, and that the Governor of your town may accept of my present. The best recompense I can hope for would be to find that I had inspired the Ottoman commanders with the same sentiments towards those unhappy Greeks who may hereafter fall into their hands.

'I beg you to believe me, etc., 'NOEL BYRON.'

The details of this incident have hitherto pa.s.sed almost unnoticed. The whole story is full of pathos, and affords a view of Byron's real character.

In June, 1821, when Missolonghi and Anatolico proclaimed themselves parts of independent Greece, all Turkish residents were arrested. The males were cruelly put to death, and their wives and families were handed over to the Greek householders as slaves. The miseries these defenceless people endured while Death stared them daily in the face are indescribable.

Millingen says:

'One day, as I entered the dispensary, I found the wife of one of the Turkish inhabitants of Missolonghi who had fled to Patras. The poor woman came to implore my pity, and begged me to allow her to take shelter under my roof from the brutality and cruelty of the Greeks.