His situation at this period was indeed calculated to inspire pity.  Had he survived, it might, instead of awakening the derision of history, have supplied to himself materials for another canto of Don Juan.  I shall select one instance of his afflictions.

The captain of a British gun-brig came to Missolonghi to demand an equivalent for an Ionian boat, which had been taken in the act of going out of the Gulf of Lepanto, with provisions and arms.  The Greek fleet at that time blockading the port consisted of five brigs, and the Turks had fourteen vessels of war in the gulf.  The captain maintained that the British Government recognised no blockade which was not efficient, and that the efficiency depended on the numerical superiority of cannon.  On this principle he demanded restitution of the property.  Mavrocordato offered to submit the case to the decision of the British Government, but the captain would only give him four hours to consider.  The indemnification was granted.

Lord Byron conducted the business in behalf of the captain.  In the evening, conversing with Stanhope on the subject, the colonel said the affair was conducted in a bullying manner.  His Lordship started into a passion and contended that law, justice, and equity had nothing to do with politics.  “That may be,” replied Stanhope, “but I will never lend myself to injustice.”

His Lordship then began to attack Jeremy Bentham.  The colonel complained of such illiberality, as to make personal attacks on that gentleman before a friend who held him in high estimation.

“I only attack his public principles,” replied Byron, “which are mere theories, but dangerous,—­injurious to Spain, and calculated to do great mischief in Greece.”

Stanhope vindicated Bentham, and said, “He possesses a truly British heart; but your Lordship, after professing liberal principles from boyhood, have, when called upon to act, proved yourself a Turk.”

“What proofs have you of this?

“Your conduct in endeavouring to crush the press by declaiming against it to Mavrocordato, and your general abuse of liberal principles.”

“If I had held up my finger,” retorted his Lordship, “I could have crushed the press.”

“With all this power,” said Stanhope, “which by the way you never possessed, you went to the prince, and poisoned his ear.”

Lord Byron then disclaimed against the liberals.  “What liberals?” cried Stanhope.  “Did you borrow your notions of freemen from the Italians?”

“No:  from the Hunts, Cartwrights, and such.”

“And yet your Lordship presented Cartwright’s Reform Bill, and aided Hunt by praising his poetry and giving him the sale of your works.”

“You are worse than Wilson,” exclaimed Byron, “and should quit the army.”

“I am a mere soldier,” replied Stanhope, “but never will I abandon my principles.  Our principles are diametrically opposite, so let us avoid the subject.  If Lord Byron acts up to his professions, he will be the greatest, if not, the meanest of mankind.”