Enough has been said to show that Trelawny’s abuse of Byron must not be taken too seriously, and that his opinion of Mavrocordato was not endorsed by those whose opportunities for judging the Prince’s conduct were far greater than Trelawny’s.
Let us dismiss from our minds the recollection of hasty words written in anger, and let us remember those truer and deeper sentiments which Trelawny expressed in his old age:
‘I withdrew the black pall and the white shroud, and beheld the body of the Pilgrim—more beautiful in death than in life. The contraction of the muscles and skin had effaced every line that Time or Passion had ever traced upon it. Few marble busts would have matched its stainless white, the harmony of its proportions, and perfect finish. And yet he had been dissatisfied with that body, and longed to cast its slough! He was jealous of the genius of Shakespeare—that might well be—but where had he seen the face or the form worthy to excite his envy?’
CHAPTER XV
The news of Byron’s death spread like wildfire through the streets and bazaars of Missolonghi. The whole city seemed stunned by the unexpected blow. Byron’s illness had been known, but no one dreamed that it would end so fatally. As Gamba has well said: ‘He died in a strange land, and amongst strangers; but more loved, more sincerely wept, he could never have been wherever he had breathed his last.’
On the day of Byron’s death, Mavrocordato issued the following proclamation, which forms a real and enduring tribute to the memory of one who, in the prime of life, died in a great cause:
Provisional Government of Western Greece.
The present day of festivity and rejoicing is turned into one of sorrow and mourning.