Greece, thrust disaffected papers into his carriage, and here and there
indulged in cries of [Greek: kato e prostasia], down with the protectorate,
down with the tyranny of fifty years. This exceptional disrespect he
ascribed to what he leniently called the history of Cephalonia, meaning
the savage dose of martial law nine years before. He justly took it for
a marked symbol of the state of excitement at which under various
influences the popular mind had arrived. Age and infirmity prevented the
archbishop from coming to offer his respects, so after his levee Mr.
Gladstone with his suite repaired to the archbishop. 'We found him,'
says Mr. Gordon, 'seated on a sofa dressed in his most gorgeous robes of
gold and purple, over which flowed down a long white beard.... Behind
him stood a little court of black-robed, black-bearded, black-capped,
dark-faced priests. He is eighty-six years old, and his manners and
appearance were dignified in the extreme. Speaking slowly and distinctly
he began to tell Gladstone that the sole wish of Cephalonia was to be
united to Greece, and there was something very exciting and affecting in
the tremulous tones of the old man saying over and over again, "_questa
infelice isola, questa isola infelice_," as the tears streamed down his
cheeks and long silvery beard. It was like a scene in a play.'

At Zante (Dec. 15), the surface was smoother. A concourse of several
thousands awaited him; Greek flags were flying on all sides in the
strong morning sea-breeze; the town bands played Greek national tunes;
the bells were all ringing; the harbour was covered with boats full of
gaily dressed people; and the air resounded with loud shouts [Greek: zeto ho
philellen Gladston, zeto he henosis meta tes Hellados], Long live
Gladstone the Philhellene, hurrah for union with Greece.

Every room and passage in the residency, Mr. Gordon writes to Lord
Aberdeen, was already thronged.... Upstairs the excitement was
great, and as soon as Gladstone had taken his place, in swept
Gerasimus the bishop (followed by scores of swarthy priests in
their picturesque black robes) and tendered to him the petition for
union. But before he could deliver it, Gladstone stopped him and
addressed to him and to the assembly a speech in excellent Italian.
Never did I hear his beautiful voice ring out more clear or more
thrillingly than when he said, '_Ecco l' inganno_.'... It was a
scene