‘The next day he kept his bed with an attack of rheumatic fever. It was thought that his saddle was wet; but it is more probable that he was really suffering from his previous exposure to the rain, which perhaps affected him the more readily on account of his over-abstemious mode of life.’
The dates to which Gamba refers in the statement we have quoted were April 11 and 12. It is important to remark that in Fletcher’s account, published in the Westminster Review, it is stated that the last time Byron rode out was on April 10. According to Parry, who supports Fletcher’s opinion, Byron was very unwell on April 11, and did not leave his house. He had shivering fits, and complained of pains, particularly in his bones and head.
‘He talked a great deal,’ says Parry, ‘and I thought in rather a wandering manner. I became alarmed for his safety, and earnestly begged him to try a change of air and scene at Zante.’
Gamba, in his journal, says that Byron rose from his bed on April 13, but did not leave the house. The fever appeared to be diminished, but the pains in his head and bones continued. He was melancholy and irritable. He had not slept since his attack, and could take no other nourishment than a little broth and a spoonful or two of arrowroot. On the 14th he got out of bed at noon; he was calmer. The fever had apparently diminished, but he was very weak, and still complained of pains in his head. It was with the greatest difficulty, says Gamba, that the physicians dissuaded him from going out riding, which, in spite of the threatening weather, he desired to do. There seems at that time to have been no suspicion of danger, and it was even supposed by his doctors that the malady was under control. Byron himself said that he was rather glad of his fever, as it might cure him of his tendency to epilepsy. He attended to his correspondence as usual. Gamba says:
‘I think it was on this day that, as I was sitting near him on his sofa, he said to me, “I was afraid I was losing my memory, and, in order to try, I attempted to repeat some Latin verses with the English translation, which I have not tried to recollect since I was at school. I remembered them all except the last word of one of the hexameters.”’
On April 15 the fever was still upon him, says Gamba, but all pain had ceased. He was easier, and expressed a wish to ride out, but the weather would not permit. He transacted business, and received, among others, a letter from the Turkish Governor to whom he had sent the prisoners he had liberated. The Turk thanked Byron for his courtesy, and asked for a repetition of this favour. ‘The letter pleased him much,’ says Gamba.
According to Fletcher, it appears that both on that day and the day previous Byron had a suspicion that his complaint was not understood by his doctors.
Parry says that on April 15 the doctors thought there was no danger, and said so, openly. He paid Byron a visit, and remained at his bedside from 7 p.m. until 10 o’clock.
‘Lord Byron spoke of death with great composure,’ says Parry; ‘and though he did not think that his end was so very near, there was something about him so serious and so firm, so resigned and composed, so different from anything I had ever before seen in him, that my mind misgave me.’
Byron then spoke of the sadness of being ill in such a place as Missolonghi, and seemed to have imagined the possibility of a reconciliation with his wife.