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His life was one long war with self-sought foes,
Or friends by him self-banished, for his mind
Had grown Suspicion’s sanctuary.
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Byron formed his opinion of the inhabitants of this planet from books; personally he knew as little about them as if he belonged to some other. From reading Rochefoucauld, Machiavelli, and other soured cynics, he learnt to distrust people in general; so, as he could do nothing without them and did not know how to manage them, he was always complaining of being over-reached, and never getting what he wanted. I don’t think he ever knew what he did want: few there are that do.
To resume my log on board the good ship ‘Hercules.’ On the 2nd of August, the islands of Cephalonia and Zante were
in sight, and shortly
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“I hope this accursed limb will be knocked off in the war.”
“It won’t improve your swimming,” I answered; “I will exchange legs if you will give me a portion of your brains.”
“You would repent your bargain,” he said; “at times I feel my brains boiling, as Shelley’s did whilst you were grilling him.”
After bathing, we landed in an olive grove, eating our frugal supper under
the trees. Our Greek passengers during the voyage said, that the Greeks generally were in
favour of a monarchical government; the Greeks on the island confirmed this, saying it was
the only way of getting rid of the robber chiefs who now tyrannised and kept the country in
a state of anarchy; and as they must have a foreigner for a king, they could not do better
than elect Byron. The Poet treated this suggestion
lightly, saying, “If they make me the offer, I may not refuse it. I shall take
care of my own ‘sma peculiar;’ for if it don’t suit my humour, I
shall, like Sancho, abdicate.”
Byron several times alluded to this, in a bantering
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Our party made an excursion to the neighbouring island of Ithaca; contrasted with the arid wastes and barren red hills of Cephalonia, the verdant valleys, sparkling streams, and high land, clothed in evergreen shrubs, were strikingly beautiful. After landing, it was proposed to Byron to visit some of the localities that antiquaries have dubbed with the titles of Homer’s school,—Ulysses’ stronghold, &c.: he turned peevishly away, saying to me, “Do I look like one of those emasculated fogies? Let’s have a swim. I detest antiquarian twaddle. Do people think I have no lucid intervals, that I came to Greece to scribble more nonsense? I will show them I can do something better: I wish I had never written a line, to have it cast in my teeth at every turn.” Brown and Gamba went to look for some place where we might pass the night, as we could not get mules to go on until the next day.
After a long swim, Byron clambered up
the rocks, and, exhausted by his day’s work, fell asleep under
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In the morning we rode through the pleasant little island to Vathy, the
capital. The Resident, Captain Knox, his lady, and
everyone else who had a house, opened their doors to welcome us, and the Pilgrim was
received as if he had been a prince. On the summit of a high mountain in the island, there
is an ancient monastery, from which there is a magnificent view of the Ionian Sea, Greece,
and many islands. The day after our arrival we ascended it, our party amounting to ten or
twelve, including servants and muleteers. As usual, it was late when we started; there was
not a breath of air, and the heat was intense. Following a narrow zigzag path between rocks
and precipices in single file, as our mules crept upwards our difficulty increased, until
the path became merely stone steps, worn by time and travel in the solid limestone. We all
dismounted but Byron; he was jaded and irritable, as he
generally was when deprived of his accustomed mid-
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Byron had not spoken a word from the time we
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“Will no one release me from the presence of these pestilential idiots? they drive me mad!” Seizing a lamp, he left the room.
The consternation of the monks at this explosion of wrath may be imagined. The amazed Abbot remained for some time motionless, his eyes and mouth wide open; holding the paper he had been reading in the same position, he looked at the vacant place left by Byron, and then at the door through which he had disappeared. At last he thought he had solved the mystery, and in a low tremulous voice said,—significantly putting his finger to his forehead:—
“Eccolo, è matto poveretto!” (Poor fellow, he is mad.)
Leaving Hamilton Brown to pacify
the monks, I followed Byron. He was still fretting and
fuming,
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In the morning, Byron came forth refreshed, and acted as if he had forgotten the occurrences of the evening. The Abbot had not, and he took care not to remind him of them. A handsome donation was deposited in the alms-box, and we mounted our mules and departed, without any other ceremony than a hasty benediction from the Holy Father and his monks. However we might have doubted the sincerity of their ovation on receiving us, we did not question the relief they felt and expressed by their looks on our departure.
The next day we retraced our steps through the flowery ravines and
tranquil glades of this lovely islet, our road winding along the foot of the moun-
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On reaching our former landing-place, we had to wait a long time for a boat to ferry us across the strait to Cephalonia. As usual, he and I took to the water; in the evening we crossed, and it was night when we regained our old quarters on board the ‘Hercules.’
It was near noon of the next day, when I had occasion to speak to
Byron on pressing business. I descended to his
cabin,—he was fast asleep. I repeatedly called him by name; at first in a low
voice,—then louder and louder; at last he started up in terror, staring at me wildly.
With a convulsive sigh he said, “I have had such a dream! I am trembling with
fear. I am not fit to go to
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I said, “Who could against a night-mare? the hag don’t mind your pistols or your bible” (he always had these on a chair close to the side of his bed). I then talked on other subjects until he was tolerably composed, and so left him.
The conflicting accounts that came day by day from the Morea distracted us; to ascertain the real state of things, I proposed to go there. Byron urged me to stay until he went, so I remained for some time; but when he talked of leaving the ship and taking a house, I determined to be off.
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