LORD  BYRON  and  his  TIMES
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Journal of the Conversations of Lord Byron
Documents related to Byron's Death
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JOURNAL

OF THE

CONVERSATIONS

OF

LORD BYRON:

NOTED DURING A RESIDENCE WITH HIS LORDSHIP

AT PISA,

IN THE YEARS 1821 AND 1822.

BY THOMAS MEDWIN, ESQ.

OF THE 24TH LIGHT DRAGOONS,

AUTHOR OF “AHASUERUS THE WANDERER.”


LONDON:
PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN, NEW BURLINGTON STREET.
1824.
326 Documents related to Byron's Death
MR. FLETCHER’S ACCOUNT OF LORD BYRON’S LAST MOMENTS.
The last moments of great men have always been a subject of deep interest, and are thought to be pregnant with instruction. Surely, if the death-bed of any man will fix attention, it is that of one upon whose most trifling action the eyes of all Europe have been fixed for ten years with an anxious and minute curiosity, of which the annals of literature afford no previous example. We are enabled to present our readers with a very detailed report of Lord Byron’s last illness. It is collected from the mouth of Mr. Fletcher, who has been for more than twenty years his faithful and confidential attendant. It is very possible that the account may contain inaccuracies: the agitation of the scene may have created some confusion in the mind of an humble but an affectionate friend: memory may, it is possible, in some trifling instances, have played him false: and some of the thoughts may have been changed either in the sense or in the expression, or by passing through the mind of an uneducated man. But we are convinced of the general accuracy of the whole, and consider ourselves very fortunate in being the means of preserving so affecting and interesting a history of the last days of the greatest and the truest poet that England has for some time produced.
“My master,” says Mr. Fletcher, “continued his usual custom of riding daily when the weather would permit, until the 9th of April. But on that ill-fated day he got very wet; and on his return home his Lordship changed the whole of his dress; but he had been too long in his wet clothes, and the cold, of which he had complained more or less ever since we left Cephalonia, made this attack be more severely felt. Though rather feverish during the night, his Lordship slept pretty well, but complained in the morning of a pain in his bones and a head-ache: this did not, however, prevent him from taking a ride in the afternoon, which I grieve to say was his last. On his return, my master said that the saddle was not perfectly dry, from being so wet the day before, and observed that he thought it had made him worse. His Lordship was again visited by the same slow fever, and I was sorry to perceive, on the next morning, that his illness appeared to be increasing. He was very low, and complained of not having had any sleep during the night. His Lordship’s appetite was also quite gone. I prepared a little arrow-root, of which he took three or four spoonfuls, saying it was very good, but could take no more. It
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was not till the third day, the 12th, that I began to be alarmed for my master. In all his former colds he always slept well, and was never affected by this slow fever. I therefore went to Dr. Bruno and Mr. Millingen, the two medical attendants, and inquired minutely into every circumstance connected with my master’s present illness: both replied that there was no danger, and I might make myself perfectly easy on the subject, for all would be well in a few days.—This was on the 13th. On the following day I found my master in such a state, that I could not feel happy without supplicating that he would send to Zante for Dr. Thomas. After expressing my fears lest his Lordship should get worse, he desired me to consult the doctors; which I did, and was told there was no occasion for calling in any person, as they hoped all would be well in a few days.—Here I should remark, that his Lordship repeatedly said, in the course of the day, he was sure the doctors did not understand his disease; to which I answered, ‘Then, my Lord, have other advice by all means.’—‘They tell me,’ said his Lordship, ‘that it is only a common cold, which, you know, I have had a thousand times.’—‘I am sure, my Lord,’ said I, ‘that you never had one of so serious a nature.’—‘I think I never had,’ was his Lordship’s answer. I repeated my supplications that Dr. Thomas should be sent for, on the 15th, and was again assured that my master would be better in two or three days. After these confident assurances, I did not renew my entreaties until it was too late. With respect to the medicines that were given to my master, I could not persuade myself that those of a strong purgative nature were the best adapted for his complaint, concluding that, as he had nothing on his stomach, the only effect would be to create pain: indeed this must have been the case with a person in perfect health. The whole nourishment taken by my master, for the last eight days, consisted of a small quantity of broth at two or three different times, and two spoonfuls of arrowroot on the 18th, the day before his death. The first time I heard of there being any intention of bleeding his Lordship was on the 15th, when it was proposed by Dr. Bruno, but objected to at first by my master, who asked Mr. Millingen if there was any very great reason for taking blood?—The latter replied that it might be of service, but added that it could be deferred till the next day;—and accordingly my master was bled in the right arm, on the evening of the 16th, and a pound of blood was taken. I observed at the time, that it had a most inflamed appearance. Dr. Bruno now began to say he had
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frequently urged my master to be bled, but that he always refused. A long dispute now arose about the time that had been lost, and the necessity of sending for medical assistance to Zante; upon which I was informed, for the first time, that it would be of no use, as my master would be better, or no more, before the arrival of Dr. Thomas. His Lordship continued to get worse: but Dr. Bruno said, he thought letting blood again would save his life; and I lost no time in telling my master how necessary it was to comply with the doctor’s wishes. To this he replied by saying, he feared they knew nothing about his disorder; and then, stretching out his arm, said, ‘Here, take my arm, and do whatever you like.’ His Lordship continued to get weaker; and on the 17th he was bled twice in the morning, and at two o’clock in the afternoon. The bleeding at both times was followed by fainting fits, and he would have fallen down more than once, had I not caught him in my arms. In order to prevent such an accident, I took care not to let his Lordship stir without supporting him. On this day my master said to me twice, ‘I cannot sleep, and you well know I have not been able to sleep for more than a week: I know,’ added his Lordship, ‘that a man can only be a certain time without sleep, and then he must go mad, without any one being able to save him; and I would ten times sooner shoot myself than be mad, for I am not afraid of dying,—I am more fit to die than people think.’ I do not, however, believe that his Lordship had any apprehension of his fate till the day after, the 18th, when he said, ‘I fear you and Tita will be ill by sitting up constantly night and day.’ I answered, ‘We shall never leave your Lordship till you are better.’ As my master had a slight fit of delirium on the 16th, I took care to remove the pistols and stiletto, which had hitherto been kept at his bedside in the night. On the 18th his Lordship addressed me frequently, and seemed to be very much dissatisfied with his medical treatment. I then said, ‘Do allow me to send for Dr. Thomas;’ to which he answered, ‘Do so, but be quick. I am sorry I did not let you do so before, as I am sure they have mistaken my disease. Write yourself, for I know they would not like to see other doctors here.’ I did not lose a moment in obeying my master’s orders; and on informing Dr. Bruno and Mr. Millingen of it, they said it was very right, as they now began to be afraid themselves. On returning to my master’s room, his first words were, ‘Have you sent?’—‘I have, my Lord,’ was my answer; upon which he said, ‘You have done right, for I should like to know what is the matter with me.’
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Although his Lordship did not appear to think his dissolution was so near, I could perceive he was getting weaker every hour, and he even began to have occasional fits of delirium. He afterwards said, ‘I now begin to think I am seriously ill; and, in case I should be taken off suddenly, I wish to give you several directions, which I hope you will be particular in seeing executed.’ I answered I would, in case such an event came to pass; but expressed a hope that he would live many years to execute them much better himself than I could. To this my master replied, ‘No, it is now nearly over;’ and then added, ‘I must tell you all without losing a moment!’ I then said, ‘Shall I go, my Lord, and fetch pen, ink, and paper?’—‘Oh, my God! no, you will lose too much time, and I have it not to spare, for my time is now short,’ said his Lordship; and immediately after, ‘Now, pay attention.’ His Lordship commenced by saying, ‘You will be provided for.’ I begged him, however, to proceed with things of more consequence. He then continued, ‘Oh, my poor dear child!—my dear Ada! My God! could I but have seen her! Give her my blessing—and my dear sister Augusta and her children;—and you will go to Lady Byron, and say tell her every thing;—you are friends with her.’ His Lordship appeared to be greatly affected at this moment. Here my master’s voice failed him, so that I could only catch a word at intervals; but he kept muttering something very seriously for some time, and would often raise his voice and say, ‘Fletcher, now if you do not execute every order which I have given you, I will torment you hereafter if possible.’ Here I told his Lordship, in a state of the greatest perplexity, that I had not understood a word of what he said; to which he replied, ‘Oh, my God! then all is lost, for it is now too late! Can it be possible you have not understood me?’—‘No, my Lord,’ said I; ‘but I pray you to try and inform me once more.’—‘How can I?’ rejoined my master; ‘it is now too late, and all is over!’ I said, ‘Not our will, but God’s be done!’—and he answered, ‘Yes, not mine be done—but I will try—’ His Lordship did indeed make several efforts to speak, but could only repeat two or three words at a time—such as, ‘My wife! my child! my sister!—you know all—you must say all—you know my wishes:’ the rest was quite unintelligible. A consultation was now held (about noon), when it was determined to administer some Peruvian bark and wine. My master had now been nine days without any sustenance whatever, except what I have already mentioned. With the exception of a few words which can only interest those to whom they were addressed, and which, if required, I shall
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communicate to themselves, it was impossible to understand anything his Lordship said after taking the bark. He expressed a wish to sleep. I at one time asked whether I should call Mr. Parry; to which he replied, ‘Yes, you may call him.’ Mr. Parry desired him to compose himself. He shed tears, and apparently sunk into a slumber. Mr. Parry went away, expecting to find him refreshed on his return—but it was the commencement of the lethargy preceding his death. The last words I heard my master utter were at six o’clock on the evening of the 18th, when he said, ‘I must sleep now;’ upon which he laid down never to rise again!—for he did not move hand or foot during the following twenty-four hours. His Lordship appeared, however, to be in a state of suffocation at intervals, and had a frequent rattling in the throat: on these occasions I called Tita to assist me in raising his head, and I thought he seemed to get quite stiff. The rattling and choaking in the throat took place every half-hour; and we continued to raise his head whenever the fit came on, till six o’clock in the evening of the 19th, when I saw my master open his eyes and then shut them, but without showing any symptom of pain, or moving hand or foot. ‘Oh! my God!’ I exclaimed, ‘I fear his Lordship is gone!’ The doctors then felt his pulse, and said, ‘You are right—he is gone!’”
The Editor thinks it right to add here, from “The Examiner,” Dr. Bruno’s Answer to Mr. Fletcher’s Statement.
“Mr. Fletcher has omitted to state, that on the second day of Lord Byron’s illness, his physician, Dr. Bruno, seeing the sudorific medicines had no effect, proposed blood-letting, and that his Lordship refused to allow it, and caused Mr. Millingen to be sent for, in order to consult with his physician, and see if the rheumatic fever could not be cured without the loss of blood.
“Mr. Millingen approved of the medicines previously prescribed by Dr. Bruno, and was not opposed to the opinion that bleeding was necessary; but he said to his Lordship that it might be deferred till the next day. He held this language for three successive days, while the other physician (Dr. Bruno) every day threatened Lord Byron that he would die by his obstinacy in not allowing himself to be bled. His Lordship always answered, ‘You wish to get the reputation of curing my disease,—that is why you tell me it is so serious; but I will not permit you to bleed me.’
LAST MOMENTS OF LORD BYRON. 331
“After the first consultation with Mr. Millingen, the domestic Fletcher asked Dr. Bruno how his Lordship’s complaint was going on? The physician replied that, if he would allow the bleeding, he would be cured in a few days. But the surgeon, Mr. Millingen, assured Lord Byron, from day to day, that it could wait till to-morrow; and thus four days slipped away, during which the disease, for want of blood-letting, grew much worse. At length Mr. Millingen, seeing that the prognostications which Dr. Bruno had made respecting Lord Byron’s malady were more and more confirmed, urged the necessity of bleeding, and of no longer delaying it a moment. This caused Lord Byron, disgusted at finding that he could not be cured without loss of blood, to say that it seemed to him that the doctors did not understand his malady. He then had a man sent to Zante to fetch Dr. Thomas. Mr. Fletcher having mentioned this to Dr. Bruno, the latter observed, that if his Lordship would consent to lose as much blood as was necessary, he would answer for his cure; but that if he delayed any longer, or did not entirely follow his advice, Dr. Thomas would not arrive in time:—in fact, when Dr. Thomas was ready to set out from Zante, Lord Byron was dead.
“The pistols and stiletto were removed from his Lordship’s bed,—not by Fletcher, but by the servant Tita, who was the only person that constantly waited on Lord Byron in his illness, and who had been advised to take this precaution by Dr. Bruno, the latter having perceived that my Lord had moments of delirium.
“Two days before the death, a consultation was held with three other doctors, who appeared to think that his Lordship’s disease was changing from inflammatory diathesis to languid, and they ordered china*, opium, and ammonia.
“Dr. Bruno opposed this with the greatest warmth, and pointed out to them that the symptoms were those, not of an alteration in the disease, but of a fever flying to the brain, which was violently attacked by it; and that the wine, the china, and the stimulants would kill Lord Byron more speedily than the complaint itself could; while, on the other hand, by copious bleedings and the medicines that had been taken before, he might yet be saved. The other physicians, however, were of a different opinion; and it was then that Dr. Bruno declared to his colleagues that he would have no further responsibility for the

* This is a French term, sometimes used for the smilax china; but we have no doubt it means here the Jesuit’s bark.

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loss of Lord Byron, which he pronounced inevitable if the china were given him. In effect, after my Lord had taken the tincture, with some grains of carbonate of ammonia, he was seized by convulsions. Soon afterwards they gave him a cup of very strong decoction of china, with some drops of laudanum: he instantly fell into a deep lethargic sleep, from which he never rose.
“The opening of the body discovered the brain in a state of the highest inflammation; and all the six physicians who were present at that opening were convinced that my Lord would have been saved by the bleeding, which his physician Dr. Bruno had advised from the beginning with the most pressing urgency and the greatest firmness.” F. B.
Of Lord Byron’s friends in Greece, those whom one should have wished to have been present during his last illness, were scattered about the country: Colonel Stanhope was at Salona; Mr. Trelawney arrived at Messolonghi very soon after the fatal event. “With all my anxiety,” he says, in a letter written immediately after, and dated Messolonghi, “I could not get here before the third day. It was the second after having crossed the first great torrent, that I met some soldiers from Messolonghi: I then rode back and demanded of a stranger the news from Messolonghi; I heard nothing more than ‘Lord Byron is dead,’ and I passed on in gloomy silence.”—It was at his desire that Dr. Bruno drew up his report of the examination of Lord Byron’s body. This report we shall here insert, though it has been printed in the newspapers. But, partly owing to the vagueness of the original, and partly to the translator’s ignorance of anatomy, it has been hitherto perfectly unintelligible.
“1. On opening the body of Lord Byron, the bones of the head were found extremely hard, exhibiting no appearance of suture, like the cranium of an octogenarian, so that the skull had the appearance of one uniform bone: there seemed to be no diploe, and the sinus frontalis was wanting.
2. The dura mater was so firmly attached to the internal parieteii of the cranium, that the reiterated attempts of two strong men were insufficient to detach it, and the vessels of that membrane were completely injected with blood. It was united from point to point by membranous bridles to the pia mater.
3. Between the pia mater and the convolutions of the brain were found many globules of air, with exudation of lymph and numerous adhesions.
4. The great falx of the dura mater was firmly attached to both hemispheres by membranous bridles; and its vessels were turgid with blood.
6. The medullary substance was in more than ordinary proportion to the corticle, and of the usual consistency. The cerebrum and the cerebellum, without the membranes, weighed 61bs. (mediche).
7. The channels or sulci of the blood-vessels on the internal surface of the cranium, were more numerous than usual, but small.
8. The lungs were perfectly healthy, but of much more than ordinary volume (gigantiselle).
9. Between the pericardium and the heart there was about an ounce of lymph, and the heart itself was of greater size than usual; but its muscular substance wag extremely flaccid.
10. The liver was much smaller than usual, as was also the gall-bladder, which contained air instead of bile. The intestines were of a deep bilious hue, and distended with air.
11. The kidneys were very large but healthy, and the vesica relatively small.
Judging from the observations marked 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 10, and 11, the physician who attended Lord Byron concludes, that he might probably have recovered from his illness, had he submitted to the loss of blood which was recommended at the commencement of the disease. He thinks, however, that he can declare with tolerable certainty, from the appearances 1, 8, and 9, that his Lordship could not have survived many years, on account of his habitual exposure to the causes of disease, both from his habitual mental exertion, his excessive occupation, and a constant state of indigestion.’”
From this account of the examination of the body, it is plain that Lord Byron died in consequence of inflammation of the brain; at least if the appearances really were as described. The cause of the attack was clearly his exposure to wet and cold on the 9th of April. By this exposure fever was excited. His brain was predisposed to disease, as is evident from the attack of convulsion from which he was scarcely yet recovered; and the fever once produced, excited inflammation in the brain the more readily on account of the predisposition to disease which had already been manifested in that organ. That he might have been saved by early and copious bleeding, and other appropriate remedies, is certain. That his medical attendants had not, until it was too late to do any thing, any suspicion of the true nature of his disease, we are fully
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satisfied. Nothing is known of any intention to bleed until the 15th, that is, the 6th day of the disease, and then one of the medical attendants expresses in a very vague manner his opinion of the remedy: “it might be of service, but it could be deferred till the next day.” Could any man, who was led by the symptoms to suspect such a state of the organ as was revealed by inspection, thus speak? When Dr. Bruno, in his report, speaks of taking blood in the early stage “in grande abbondanza,” he speaks instructed by dissection. Were we to place implicit confidence in the accuracy of the report of Lord Byron’s attendant, we should doubt, from all the circumstances, his having proposed, in an early stage, copious bleeding to his patient, and his Lordship’s refusal to submit to the treatment. He called his complaint a cold, and said the patient would be well in a few days, and no physician would propose copious bleeding under such circumstances. It seems to us that Lord Byron’s penetration discovered their hesitation, and suspected the ignorance by which it was caused, and that his suspicion was but too well founded. Without further evidence we should disbelieve in the total obliteration of the sutures; and we may add, that all the inferences deduced from the alleged appearances in 1, 8, 9, Sec. are absurd; they do not afford evidence enough to warrant the slightest conjecture relative to the length or the brevity of life. It is, however, but fair to add, that Lord Byron always had a very decided objection to being bled; and Dr. Bruno’s own testimony, which we have already quoted, ought to have its due weight. That Lord Byron should have had an insurmountable objection to bleeding is extraordinary, and it in some measure confirms what he himself used to say, that he had no fear of death, but a perfect horror of pain.
Lord Byron’s death was a severe blow to the people of Messolonghi, and they testified their sincere and deep sorrow by paying his remains all the honours their state could by any possibility invent and carry into execution. But a people, when really animated by the passion of grief, requires no teaching or marshalling into the expression of its feelings. The rude and military mode in which the inhabitants and soldiers of Messolonghi, and of other places, vented their lamentations over the body of their deceased patron and benefactor, touches the heart more deeply than the vain and empty pageantry of much more civilized states.
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Άρ 1185) ΠΡΟΣΩΡΙΝΗ ΔΙΟΙΚΗΣΙΣ ΤΗΣ ΕΛΛΑΔΟΣ
Αί παρουσαι χαρμοσυνοι ημίέραι εγιναν δια ολους ημας ημέραι πένθους.
Ό Λορδ Νοελ Βυρων απέρασε σημερον εις την αλλην ζωην ωερι τας ενδεχα ωρας την εσπέραν μετα μίαν ασθένειαν φλογιςιχου ρευματιχου πυρετου 10 ημερων.
Και πρίναχομη χωρισθη η ψυχη απο το σωμα, η χοινη χατηφεια ελγεν οσην ϑλίψιν ησθάνετο η χαρδία ολων, και ολοι μιχροι μεγαλοι, ανδρες χαι γυναιχες, νιχημενοι απο την ϑλίψιν, ελησμονησατε το Πάσχα.
Ή ςέρησις αυτοϋ του Λαμπρου υποχειμένου ειαι βέβαια πολλα αισθατιϖη δι΄ ολην Έλλαδα, αλλα ειναι πολυ περισοτερον άξιοθρηνητος δια αυτην την Πόλιν, την οποίαν ηγάπησε διαφερόντως, χαι εις αυτην επολιτογράφηχαι απόφασιν ςαθεραν ειχεν αν το εφερεν η περίςασις να γενη χαι προσωπιχως συμμέτοχος των χινδυνων της.
Καθένας βλέπει εμπρός του τας πλουσιας προς το χοινον ευεργεσίας του, χαι μητε παυει χανείς με ευγνωμονα χαι αληθινην φωνην τα τον ονομάζη ευεργέτην.
Έως ου να γνωςοποιηθευν αι διαταγαι της Έθνιχης Διύιχησεως περι αυτου του πολυθρηνητου συμβάντος.
Δυνάμει του υπʹ αρ. 314 χαι ημ. 15 Όχτωβρίου ϑεσπίσματος του Βουλευτιχου Σωματος,
Διατάττεται,
αʹ.) Αυριον, μόλις ανατείνη ο Ήλιος, να ωέσουν απο το μεγάλον χανονοςάσιον του τείχους αυτηςΠόλεως 37 Κανονιαις (μία το χάθε λεπτον,) χατα του αριθμον των χρόνων της ζωης του αποθανόντο
βʹ.) Όλα τα χοινα υπουργεια, δια τρεις ημέρας χατα συνέχειαν, να χλεισθουν, εμπεριεχο-μένων χαι των χριτηρίων.
γʹ.) Να χλεισθουν ολα τα εργαςήρια εχτος εχείνων οπου πω λουνται τροφαι, χαι ιατριχα χαι να λείψουν τα μουσιχα παιγνήδια, οι συνειθισμένοι εις αυτας τας ημέρας χοροι, να παύσουν τα φαγοπότια εις τα χρασοπωλεια, χαι χάθε αλλο ειδος χεινου ξεφαντώματος.
δʹ.) Να γενη 21 ημέρας Γενιχη πενθιφορία.
εʹ.) γένουν επιχήδειοι δεήσεις εις ολας τας εχχλησίας.
Έν Μεσολογγιω την 7 Άπριλλίου 1824.
Τ. Σ. Α. Μαυροχορδάτος.
Ό Γραμματευς
Γεώργιος Πραιδης.
Έχ της Τυπογραφιας Δ. Μεσθενέως.
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(TRANSLATION.)
Art. 1185. Provisional Government of Western Greece.
The present day of festivity and rejoicing is turned into one of sorrow and mourning.
The Lord Noel Byron departed this life at eleven o’clock last night, after an illness of ten days; his death being caused by an inflammatory fever. Such was the effect of his Lordship’s illness on the public mind, that all classes had forgotten their usual recreations of Easter, even before the afflicting end was apprehended.
The loss of this illustrious individual is undoubtedly to be deplored by all Greece; but it must be more especially a subject of lamentation at Messolonghi, where his generosity has been so conspicuously displayed, and of which he had even become a citizen, with the ulterior determination of participating in all the dangers of the war.
Every body is acquainted with the beneficent acts of his Lordship, and none can cease to hail his name, as that of a real benefactor.
Until, therefore, the final determination of the national Government be known, and by virtue of the powers with which it has been pleased to invest me: I hereby decree,
1st. To-morrow morning at daylight, 37 minute-guns shall be fired from the grand battery, being the number which corresponds with the age of the illustrious deceased.
2nd. All the public offices, even to the tribunals, are to remain closed for three successive days.
3rd. All the shops, except those in which provisions or medicines are sold, will also be shut: and it is strictly enjoined, that every species of public amusement, and other demonstrations of festivity at Easter, may be suspended.
4th. A general mourning will be observed for twenty-one days.
5th. Prayers and a funeral service are to be offered up in all the churches.
(Signed) A. Mavrocordatos.
Given at Messolonghi, Giorgius Praidis,
this 19th day of April, 1824. Secretary.
There appears to have been considerable difficulty in fixing upon the place of interment. No directions had been left by Lord Byron—and no one could speak as to the wishes he might have entertained on the point. After the embalmment, the first step was to send the body to Zante, where the authorities
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were to decide as to its ultimate destination. Lord Sidney Osborne, a relation of Lord Byron by marriage, the Secretary of the Senate at Corfu, repaired to Zante to meet it. It was his wish, and that of some others, that his Lordship should be interred in that island—a proposition which was received with indignation and most decidedly opposed by the majority of the English. By one it was proposed that his remains should have been deposited in the temple of Theseus, or in the Parthenon, at Athens; and as some importance might have been attached to the circumstance by the Greeks, and as there is something consolatory in the idea of Lord Byron reposing at last in so venerable a spot, thus re-consecrating, as it were, the sacred land of the Arts and the Muses, we cannot but lament that the measure was not listened to. Ulysses sent an express to Messolonghi, to solicit that his ashes might be laid in Athens; the body had then, however, reached Zante, and it appearing to be the almost unanimous wish of the English that it should be sent to England, for public burial in Westminster Abbey or St. Paul’s, the Resident of the Island yielded; the Florida was taken up for that purpose—and the whole English public know the result.
It was not only at Messolonghi, but throughout the whole of Greece, that the death of Lord Byron was felt as a calamity in itself, and a bad omen for the future. Lord Byron went to the Greeks not under the same circumstances that any other man of equal genius might have done. He had been the poet of Greece—more than any other man he had turned the attention of Europe on modern Greece. By his eloquent and spirit-stirring strains, he had himself powerfully co-operated in raising the enthusiasm of regeneration which now reigns in Greece. All this gave to his arrival there, to use the phrase of a letter written while he was expected, something like the character “of the coming of a Messiah.” Proportionate, doubtless, was the disappointment, grief, and depression, when his mission ended before he had effected any thing of importance.—Fortunately the success of Greece depends not upon the efforts of any single man. Her fortune is sure, and must be made by the force of uncontrollable circumstances; by the character of the country, by the present ignorance and the former brutality of its oppressors, by Greek ingenuity, dexterity, and perseverance, traits stamped upon them by ages of servitude, now turned with a spirit of stern revenge upon those who made such qualities necessary—by the fortunate accidents which kept a host of consummate generals in the
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character of bandit robbers and shepherd chiefs, watching the moment when they might assume a more generous trade, and on a larger scale revenge the wrongs of a race of mountain-warriors.—By these and a multitude of other causes which might be enumerated, the fate of Greece is certain. We repeat with the most earnest assurance to those who still doubt, and with the most intimate knowledge of all the facts which have taken place, that the ultimate independence of Greece is secure. The only question at stake is the rapidity of the events which may lead to so desirable a consummation—so desirable to those who delight in the happiness and improvement of mankind—so delightful to those who have the increased prosperity of England at heart. It is here that Lord Byron might have been useful; by healing divisions, by exciting dormant energies, by ennobling and celebrating the cause, he might perhaps have accelerated the progress of Greece towards the wished-for goal. But even here, though his life was not to be spared, his death may be useful—the death-place of such a man must be in itself illustrious. The Greeks will not despair when they think how great a sacrifice has been made for them: the eyes of all Europe are turned to the spot in which he breathed his last. No man who knows that Lord Byron’s name and fame were more universal than those of any other then or now existing, can be indifferent to the cause for which he spent his last energies—on which he bent his last thoughts—the cause for which he died.
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FUNERAL ORATION ON LORD NOEL BYRON,
COMPOSED AND DELIVERED BY M. SPIRIDION TRICOUPI.
(Printed by Order of Government.)

Messolonghi, 10th April,
Thursday in Easter Week, 1824.
Unlooked-for event! deplorable misfortune! But a short time has elapsed since the people of this deeply suffering country welcomed, with unfeigned joy and open arms, this celebrated individual to their bosoms; to-day, overwhelmed with grief and despair, they bathe his funeral couch with tears of bitterness, and mourn over it with inconsolable affliction. On Easter Sunday, the happy salutation of the day, “Christ is risen,” remained but half pronounced on the lips of every Greek; and as they met, before even congratulating one another on the return of that joyous day, the universal demand was, “How is Lord Byron?” Thousands, assembled in the spacious plain outside of the city to commemorate the sacred day, appeared as if they had assembled for the sole purpose of imploring the Saviour of the world to restore to health him who was a partaker with us in our present struggle for the deliverance of our native land.
And how is it possible that any heart should remain unmoved, any lip closed upon the present occasion? Was ever Greece in greater want of assistance than when the ever-to-be-lamented Lord Byron, at the peril of his life, crossed over to Messolonghi? Then, and ever since he has been with us, his liberal hand has been opened to our necessities—necessities which our own poverty would have otherwise rendered irremediable. How many and much greater benefits did we not expect from him!—and to-day, alas! to-day, the unrelenting grave closes over him and our hopes!
Residing out of Greece, and enjoying all the pleasures and luxuries of Europe, he might have contributed materially to the success of our cause, without coming personally amongst us; and this would have been sufficient for us,—for the well-proved ability and profound judgment of our Governor, the President of the Senate, would have ensured our safety with the means so supplied. But
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if this was sufficient for us, it was not so for Lord Byron. Destined by nature to uphold the rights of man whenever he saw them trampled upon; born in a free and enlightened country; early taught, by reading the works of our ancestors, (which indeed teach all who can read them,) not only what man is, but what he ought to be, and what he may be—he saw the persecuted and enslaved Greek determine to break the heavy chains with which he was bound, and to convert the iron into sharp-edged swords, that he might regain by force what force had torn from him! He (Lord B.) saw, and leaving all the pleasures of Europe, he came to share our sufferings and our hardships; assisting us, not only with his wealth, of which he was profuse; not only with his judgment, of which he has given us so many salutary examples;—but with his sword, which he was preparing to unsheath against our barbarous and tyrannical oppressors. He came, in a word, according to the testimony of those who were intimate with him, with the determination to die in Greece and for Greece! How, therefore, can we do otherwise than lament with heartfelt sorrow the loss of such a man! How can we do otherwise than bewail it as the loss of the whole Greek nation!
Thus far, my friends, you have seen him liberal, generous, courageous—a true Philhelenist; and you have seen him as your benefactor. This is, indeed, a sufficient cause for your tears, but it is not sufficient for his honour; it is not sufficient for the greatness of the undertaking in which he had engaged. He, whose death we are now so deeply deploring, was a man who, in one great branch of literature, gave his name to the age in which we live: the vastness of his genius and the richness of his fancy did not permit him to follow the splendid though beaten track of the literary fame of the ancients; he chose a new road—a road which ancient prejudice had endeavoured, and was still endeavouring, to shut against the learned of Europe: but as long as his writings live, and they must live as long as the world exists, this road will remain always open; for it is, as well as the other, a sure road to true knowledge. I will not detain you at the present time by expressing all the respect and enthusiasm with which the perusal of his writings has always inspired me, and which indeed I feel much more powerfully now than at any other period. The learned men of all Europe celebrate him, and have celebrated him; and all ages will celebrate the poet of our age, for he was born for all Europe and for all ages.
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One consideration occurs to me, as striking and true as it is applicable to the present state of our country: listen to it, my friends, with attention, that you may make it your own, and that it may become a generally acknowledged truth.
There have been many great and splendid nations in the world, but few have been the epochs of their true glory: one phenomenon, I am inclined to believe, is wanting in the history of these nations,—and one, the possibility of the appearance of which the all-considering mind of the philosopher has much doubted. Almost all the nations of the world have fallen from the hands of one master into those of another; some have been benefited, others have been injured by the change; but the eye of the historian has not yet seen a nation enslaved by barbarians, and more particularly by barbarians rooted for ages in their soil—has not yet seen, I say, such a people throw off their slavery unassisted and alone. This is the phenomenon; and now, for the first time in the history of the world, we witness it in Greece—yes, in Greece alone! The philosopher beholds it from afar, and his doubts are dissipated; the historian sees it, and prepares his citation of it as a new event in the fortunes of nations; the statesman sees it, and becomes more observant and more on his guard. Such is the extraordinary time in which we live. My friends, the insurrection of Greece is not an epoch of our nation alone; it is an epoch of all nations: for, as I before observed, it is a phenomenon which stands alone in the political history of nations.
The great mind of the highly gifted and much lamented Byron observed this phenomenon, and he wished to unite his name with our glory. Other revolutions have happened in his time, but he did not enter into any of them—he did not assist any of them; for their character and nature were totally different: the cause of Greece alone was a cause worthy of him whom all the learned [men] of Europe celebrate. Consider then, my friends, consider the time in which you live—in what a struggle you are engaged; consider that the glory of past ages admits not of comparison with yours: the friends of liberty, the philanthropists, the philosophers of all nations, and especially of the enlightened and generous English nation, congratulate you, and from afar rejoice with you; all animate you; and the poet of our age, already crowned with immortality, emulous of your glory, came personally to your shores, that he might, together with yourselves, wash out with his blood the marks of tyranny from our polluted soil.
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Born in the great capital of England,* his descent noble, on the side of both his father and his mother, what unfeigned joy did his philhellenick heart feel, when our poor city, in token of our gratitude, inscribed his name among the number of her citizens! In the agonies of death; yes, at the moment when eternity appeared before him; as he was lingering on the brink of mortal and immortal life; when all the material world appeared but as a speck in the great works of Divine Omnipotence; in that awful hour, but two names dwelt upon the lips of this illustrious individual, leaving all the world besides—the names of his only and much beloved daughter, and of Greece: these two names, deeply engraven on his heart, even the moment of death could not efface. “My daughter!” he said; “Greece!” he exclaimed; and his spirit passed away. What Grecian heart will not be deeply affected as often as it recalls this moment!
Our tears, my friends, will be grateful, very grateful to his shade, for they are the tears of sincere affection; but much more grateful will be our deeds in the cause of our country, which, though removed from us, he will observe from the heavens, of which his virtues have doubtless opened to him the gates. This return alone does he require from us for all his munificence; this reward for his love towards us; this consolation for his sufferings in our cause; and this inheritance for the loss of his invaluable life. When your exertions, my friends, shall have liberated us from the hands which have so long held us down in chains; from the hands which have torn from our arms, our property, our brothers, our children;—then will his spirit rejoice, then will his shade be satisfied!—Yes, in that blessed hour of our freedom, the Archbishop will extend his sacred and free hand, and pronounce a blessing over his venerated tomb; the young warrior sheathing his sword, red with the blood of his tyrannical oppressors, will strew it with laurel; the statesman will consecrate it with his oratory; and the poet, resting upon the marble, will become doubly inspired; the virgins of Greece (whose beauty our illustrious fellow-citizen Byron has celebrated in many of his poems,) without any longer fearing contamination from the rapacious hands of our oppressors, crowning their heads with garlands, will dance round it, and sing of the beauty of our land, which

* This translation is by a Greek at Messolonghi, from the original modern Greek Gazette. No alterations have been made, though a few suggest themselves; one of which is, that Lord Byron was not born in London.

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the poet of our age has already commemorated with such grace and truth. But what sorrowful thought now presses upon my mind! My fancy has carried me away; I had pictured to myself all that my heart could have desired; I had imagined the blessing of our Bishops, the hymns, and laurel crowns, and the dance of the virgins of Greece round the tomb of the benefactor of Greece;—but this tomb will not contain his precious remains; the tomb will remain void; but a few days more will his body remain on the face of our land—of his new chosen country; it cannot be given over to our arms; it must be borne to his own native land, which is honoured by his birth.
Oh Daughter! most dearly beloved by him, your arms will receive him; your tears will bathe the tomb which shall contain his body;—and the tears of the orphans of Greece will be shed over the urn containing his precious heart, and over all the land of Greece, for all the land of Greece is his tomb. As in the last moment of his life you and Greece were alone in his heart and upon his lips, it was but just that she (Greece) should retain a share of the precious remains. Messolonghi, his country, will ever watch over and protect with all her strength the urn containing his venerated heart, as a symbol of his love towards us. All Greece, clothed in mourning and inconsolable, accompanies the procession in which it is borne; all ecclesiastical, civil and military honours attend it; all his fellow-citizens of Messolonghi and fellow-countrymen of Greece follow it, crowning it with their gratitude and bedewing it with their tears; it is blessed by the pious benedictions and prayers of our Archbishop, Bishop, and all our Clergy. Learn, noble Lady, learn that chieftains bore it on their shoulders, and carried it to the church; thousands of Greek soldiers lined the way through which it passed, with the muzzles of their muskets, which had destroyed so many tyrants, pointed towards the ground, as though they would war against that earth which was to deprive them for ever of the sight of their benefactor;—all this crowd of soldiers, ready at a moment to march against the implacable enemy of Christ and man, surrounded the funeral couch, and swore never to forget the sacrifices made by your Father for us, and never to allow the spot where his heart is placed to be trampled upon by barbarous and tyrannical feet. Thousands of Christian voices were in a moment heard, and the temple of the Almighty resounded with supplications and prayers that his venerated remains might be safely conveyed to his native land, and that his soul might rest where the righteous alone find rest.
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ODE TO THE MEMORY OF LORD BYRON.
FROM A GREEK JOURNAL.
Ώδη εις τον λορδ Βύρωνα.
Έλεγεία.
Τούς λαμρούς υμνους της νίχης άφίνων.
Κλαυθμων ήχει ηρωων ο στρατος
Πιχρως λυπουντ' αι ψυχαί των έλλήνον
Τ' άχούει μαχρόθεν χαί χαίρ' έχθρος.
'Ο φίλς ηλθε, πλην μολις τον είδον,
Σχαπτουν χλαίοντες τον τάφον αύτον.
Ιδού το τέλος ένοοξων έλπίοων
Καί το τροπαιον ϑανάτου σχληρου.
'Ηλθε να εμπνευσ' ως αλλος Τυρταιος.
Είς χάθε στηθος πολέμων ορμην
Πλην φευ! ο Βαρδος ελπίσας ματαίως
Ίδου μένει εις αιωνιον σίωπήν.
Ώς δένδρον χειτ' οπ' εχόσμει μεγάλως
Την χορυφην μουσιχου Παρνασσου,
Νυν προποδων φθείρουσατου το χάλλος
Πνοη το ερριψ' ανέμου σφοδρου.
Έλλας! εαν το σωματ' η Άγγλία
Να φέρ' εις μνημα ζητα πατριχον
Ειπε, Μουσων ω μητερα γλυχεια,
Ειναι τεχνον μου ο υιος των Μουσων.
Καταφρονων των ερωτων τους ζρηνους
Ήδονης μην αχούων τεν φωνην,
Έζετ' εδω ηρωων τους χινδυνους
Τάφον ας εχ' ηρωων εις τεν γην.
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TRANSLATION.
[from The Literary Gazette.]

Victorious hymns no longer court the ear;
The hosts of Greece the clouds of grief oppress;
The hardy warrior drops th’ unwonted tear,
And distant foes exult at our distress.
He came to succour—but, alas! how soon
With him the light of all our prospects fled!
Our sun has sought the darkness of the tomb,
For Byron, friend of liberty, is dead!
A new Tyrtæus gladden’d all our land,
Inspiring ev’ry soul with ancient fire;
But now, alas! death chills his friendly hand,
And endless silence sits upon his lyre.
So some fair tree which waved its shady head,
And graced the heights where famed Parnassus join’d,
Is torn by tempests from its earthy bed,
And yields its beauties scatter’d to the wind.
Oh, Greece! should England claim her right to lay
His ashes where his valiant sires have lain,
Do thou, sweet mother of the Muses! say
That thou alone those ashes shouldst retain!
Domestic joy he nobly sacrificed,
To shun the path of pleasure was his doom—
These for heroic dangers he despised;
Then Greece, the land of heroes, be his tomb!
THE END.

LONDON:
PRINTED BY S. AND H. BENTLEY, DORSET STREET.
 
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