“I await the commands of the Committee—­Address to Genoa—­the letters will be forwarded me, wherever I may be, by my bankers, Messrs. Webb and Barry.  It would have given me pleasure to have had some more defined instructions before I went, but these, of course, rest at the option of the Committee.

I have the honour to be,

“Yours obediently, &c.

“P.S.  Great anxiety is expressed for a printing press and types, &c.  I have not the time to provide them, but recommend this to the notice of the Committee.  I presume the types must, partly at least, be Greek:  they wish to publish papers, and perhaps a Journal, probably in Romaic, with Italian translations.”

All was now ready; and on the 13th of July himself and his whole party slept on board the Hercules.  About sunrise the next morning they succeeded in clearing the port; but there was little wind, and they remained in sight of Genoa the whole day.  The night was a bright moonlight, but the wind had become stormy and adverse, and they were, for a short time, in serious danger.  Lord Byron, who remained on deck during the storm, was employed anxiously, with the aid of such of his suite as were not disabled by sea-sickness from helping him in preventing further mischief to the horses, which, having been badly secured, had broken loose and injured each other.  After making head against the wind for three or four hours, the captain was at last obliged to steer back to Genoa, and re-entered the port at six in the morning.  On landing again, after this unpromising commencement of his voyage, Lord Byron (says Count Gamba) “appeared thoughtful, and remarked that he considered a bad beginning a favourable omen.”

It has been already, I believe, mentioned that, among the superstitions in which he chose to indulge, the supposed unluckiness of Friday, as a day for the commencement of any work, was one by which he, almost always, allowed himself to be influenced.  Soon after his arrival at Pisa, a lady of his acquaintance happening to meet him on the road from her house as she was herself returning thither, and supposing that he had been to make her a visit, requested that he would go back with her.  “I have not been to your house,” he answered; “for, just before I got to the door, I remembered that it was Friday; and, not liking to make my first visit on a Friday, I turned back.”  It is even related of him that he once sent away a Genoese tailor who brought him home a new coat on the same ominous day.

With all this, strange to say, he set sail for Greece on a Friday:—­and though, by those who have any leaning to this superstitious fancy, the result maybe thought but too sadly confirmatory of the omen, it is plain that either the influence of the superstition over his own mind was slight, or, in the excitement of self-devotion under which he now acted, was forgotten, In truth, notwithstanding his encouraging speech to Count Gamba, the forewarning he now felt of his approaching