LET LORD BYRON (1788-1824)
PART
2
My dear Mother,
I regret to perceive by your last letter
that several of mine have not arrived, particularly a very long one written
last from Albania, where I was on a visit to the Pacha of that province.
Fletcher has also written to his spouse perpetually.
Mr. Hobhouse, who will
forward or deliver this, and is on his return to England, can inform you of our
different movements, but I am very uncertain as to my own return. He will
probably be down in Notts. some time or other; but Fletcher, whom I send back
as an incumbrance (English servants are sad travellers), will supply his place
in the interim, and describe our travels, which have been tolerably extensive.
I have written twice briefly from this
capital, from Smyrna, from Athens and other parts of Greece; from Albania, the
Pacha of which province desired his respects to my mother, and said he was sure
I was a man of high birth because I had small ears, curling hair and white
hands!!! He was very kind to me, begged me to consider him as a father, and
gave me a guard of forty soldier through the forests of Acarnania. But of this
and other circumstances I have written to you at large, and yet hope you will
receive my letters.
I remember Mahmout Pacha, the grandson of
Ali Pacha, at Yanina, (a little fellow of ten years of age, with large black
eyes, which our ladies would purchase at any price, ad those regular
features which distinguish the Turks,)
asked me how I came to travel so young, without anybody to take care of me.
This question was put by the little man with all the gravity of threescore. I
cannot now write copiously; I have only time to tell you that I have passed
many a fatiguing, but never a tedious moment; and all that I am afraid of is
that I shall contract a gypsylike wandering disposition, which will make home
tiresome to me: this, I am told, is very common with men in the habit of
peregrination, and, indeed, I feel it so. On the 3rd of May I swam from Sestos to Abydos.
You know the story of Leander, but I had no Hero to receive me at
landing.
I also passed a fortnight on the Troad. The tombs of Achilles
and Æsyetes still exist in large barrows, similar to those you have doubtless
seen in the North. The other day I was at Belgrade (a village in these
environs), to see the house built on the same site as Lady Mary Wortley’s.
By-the-by, her ladyship, as far as I can judge, has lied, but not half so much
as any other woman would have done in the same situation.
I have been in all the principal mosques by the virtue of a firman: this is a
favour rarely permitted to Infidels, but the ambassador’s departure obtained it
for us. I have been up the Bosporus into the Black Sea, round the walls of the
city, and, indeed, I know more of it by sight than I do of London. I hope to amuse you some winter’s evening with the
details, but at present you must excuse me; – I am not able to write long
letters in June. I return to spend my summer in Greece. I shall not proceed
further into Asia, as I have visited Smyrna, Ephesus and the Troad. I write
often, but you must not be alarmed when you do not receive my letters; consider
we have no regular post farther than Malta, where I beg you will in future send
your letters, and not to this city.
Fletcher is a poor creature,
and requires comforts that I can dispense with. He is very sick of his travels,
but you must not believe his account of the country. He sighs for ale, and
idleness, and a wife, and the devil knows what besides. I have not been
disappointed or disgusted. I have lived with the highest and the lowest. I have
been for days in a Pacha’s palace, and have passed many a night in a cowhouse,
and I find the people inoffensive and kind. I have also passed some time with
the principal Greeks in the Morea and Livadia, and, though inferior to the
Turks they are better than the Spaniards, who, in their turn, excel the Portuguese.
Of Constantinople you will find many descriptions in different travels; but
Lady Mary Wortley errs strangely when she says: “St. Paul’s would cut a strange
figure by St. Sophia’s”. I have been in both, surveyed them inside and out
attentively. St. Sophia’s is undoubtedly the most interesting from its immense
antiquity, ad the circumstance of all the Greek emperors, from Justinian,
having been crowned there, and several murdered at the altar, besides the
Turkish Sultans who attend it regularly. But it is inferior in beauty and size
to some of the mosques, particularly “Soleyman, etc., and not to be mentioned
in the same page with t. Paul (I speak like a Cockney). However I prefer
the Gothic cathedral of Seville to St. Paul’s, St. Sophia’s, and any religious
building I have ever seen.
The walls of the Seraglio
are like the walls of Newstead gardens, only higher, and much in the same order;
but the ride of the walls of the city, on the land side, is beautiful. Imagine four miles of immense
triple battlements, covered with ivy, surmounted with 218 towers, and, on the
other side of the road, Turkish burying-grounds (the loveliest spots on earth),
full of enormous cypresses. I have seen the ruins of Athens, of Ephesus, and
Delphi. I have traversed great part of
Turkey and many other parts of Europe, and some of Asia; But I never beheld a work of nature or art
which yielded an impression like the prospect on each side from the Seven
Towers to the end of the Golden Horn.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….
Believe me, yours very sincerely, Byron
TO
JOHN CAM HOBHOUSE
Patras,
July 29th, 1810
The same day which saw me ashore at Zea,
set me forth once more upon the high seas, where I had the pleasure of seeing
the frigate in the Doldrums by the light of sun and moon. Before
daybreak I got into the Attics at Thaskalio, hence I dispatched men to Keratia
for horses, and in ten hours from landing I was in Athens. There I was greeted
by Lord Sligo, and next day Messrs. North, Knight, and Fazakerly paid me formal
visits. Sligo has a brig with 50 men who won’t work, 12 guns that refuse to go
off, and sails that have cut every wind except a contrary one, and then they
are as willing as may be. He is sick of the concern, but an engagement of six
months prevents him from parting with this precious ark. He would travel with me to Corinth, though as you may
suppose I was already heartily disgusted with travelling in company. He has “en
suite” a painter, a captain, a gentleman misinterpreter (who boxes with the
painter), besides sundry idle English varlets. We were obliged to have
twenty-nine horses in all. The captain and the Drogueman were left at
Athens to kill bullocks for the crew,
and the Marquis and the limner, with a ragged Turk by way of Tartar, and the
ship’s carpenter in the capacity of linguist, with two servants (one of whom
had the gripes) clothed both in leather breeches (the thermometer 125° !!),
followed over the hills and far away. On our route, the poor limner in these
gentle latitudes was ever and anon condemned to bask for half-an-hour, that he
night produce what he himself termed a “bellissimo sketche” (pardon the
orthography of the last word) of the surrounding country. You may also suppose
that a man of the Marchese’s kidney was not very easy in his seat. As for the
servants, they and their leather breeches were equally immovable at the
end of the first stage. Fletcher, too, with his usual acuteness, contrived at
Megara to ram his damned clumsy foot into a boiling tea-kettle. At Corinth we
separated, the Marquis for Tripolitza, I for Patras. Thus far the ridiculous
part of my narrative belongs to others, now comes my turn. At Vostitza I found
my dearly-beloved Eustathius, ready to follow me not only to England, but to
Terra Incognita, if so be my compass
pointed that way. This was four days ago: at present affairs are a little changed. The next-morning I found the dear
soul upon horseback clothed very sprucely in Greek garments, with those
ambrosial curls hanging down his amiable back, and to my utter astonishment,
and the great abomination of Fletcher, a parasol in his hand to save his
complexion from the heat. However, in spite of the parasol on we travelled very
much enamoured, as it should seem, till we got to Patras, where Strané received
us into his new house where I now scribble. Next day he went to visit some
accursed cousin and the day after we had a grand quarrel. Strané said I spoilt
him. I said nothing: the child was as forward as an unbroken colt, and Strané’s
Janizary said I must not be surprised, for he as too true a Greek not to be
disagreeable. I think I never in my life took so much pains to please any one,
or succeeded so ill. I particularly avoided every thing could possibly give the
least offence in any manner. Somebody says, that those who try to please will
please. This I know not; but I am sure that no one likes to fail in the
attempt. At present he goes back to his father, though he is now become more tractable.
Our parting was vastly pathetic, as many kisses as would have sufficed for a
boarding school, and embraces enough to
have ruined the character of a county in England, besides tears (not on my
part), and expressions of “Tenerezza” to a vast amount. All this and the warmth
of the weather has quite overcome me. Tomorrow I will continue. At present, “to
bed”, “to bed”, “to bed”. The youth insists on seeing me to-morrow, the issue
of which interview you shall hear. I wish you a pleasant sleep.
July
30th, 1819
I hope you have slept well. I have only
dozed. For this last six days I have slept little and eaten less. The heat has
burnt me brown, and as for Fletcher he is a walking Cinder. My new Greek
acquaintance has called thrice, and we improve vastly. In good truth, so it
ought to be, for I have quite exhausted my poor powers of pleasing, which God
knows are little enough, Lord help me! We are to go to Tripolitza and Athens
together. I do not what has put him into such good humour unless it is some Sal
Volatile I administered for his headache, and a green shade instead of
that parasol. But so it is. We have redintegrated
(a new word for you) our affections at a great rate. Now is not all this very
ridiculous? Pray tell Matthew. It would do his heart good to see me travelling
with my Tartar, Albanians, Buffo, Fletcher and this amiable παιδη
prancing by my side. Strané hath got a steed which I have bought, full of
spirit, I assure you, and very handsome accoutrements. My account with
him was as I stated on board the Salsette. Here hath just arrived the Chirugeon
of the Spider from Zante, who will take this letter to Malta. I hope it will
find you warm. You cannot conceive what a delightful companion you are now you
are gone. Sligo has told me some things that ought to set you and me by the
ears, but they shan’t ; and as a proof of it, I won’t tell
you what they are till we meet, but in
the meantime I exhort you to behave well in polite society. His Lordship has
been very kind, and as I crossed the Isthmus of Corinth offered if I chose to
take me to that of Darien, but I liked it not, for you have cured me of
“villainous company”.
I am about – after a Giro of the Morea –
to move to Athens again, and thence I
know not where; perhaps to Englonde, Malta, Sicily, Ægypt, or the Low
Countries. I suppose you are at Malta or Palermo. I amuse myself alone very
much to my satisfaction, riding, bathing, sweating, hearing Mr. Paul’s musical
clock, looking at his red breeches; we visit him every evening. There he is,
playing at stopper with the old Cogia Bachi. When these amusements fail, there
is my Greek to quarrel with, and a sopha to tumble upon. Nourse and Dacres had
been at Athens scribbling all sorts of ribaldry over my old apartment, where
Sligo, before my arrival, had added to your B.A. an A.S.S., and scrawled the
compliments of Jackson, Deeville, Miss Cameron, and “I am very unhappy Sam
Jennings”. Wallace is incarcerated, and wanted Sligo to bail him, at the
“Bell and Savage”, Fleet Rules. The news are not surprising. What think
you? Write to me from Malta, the
Mediterranean, or Ingleterra, to care of ὁ μονόλοο
Στράνε.
Have you cleansed my pistols? And dined
with the “Gineral”? My compliments to the church of St. John’s, and
peace to the ashes of Ball. How is the
Skipper? I have drank his cherry-brandy, and his rum has floated over half the
Morea. Plaudite et valete.
Yours ever,
Byron.
TO
JOHN CAM HOBHOUSE
Tripolitza,
August 16th, 1810
Dear Hobhouse,
I am on the rack of setting of for Argos
amidst the usual creaking, swearing, loading, and neighing of sixteen horses
and as many men, serrugees included. You have probably received one letter
dated Patras, and I send this at a venture. Vely Pacha received me even better
than his father did, though he is to join the Sultan, and the city is full of
troops and confusion, which, as he said, prevented him from paying proper
attention. He has given me a very pretty horse, and a most particular
invitation to meet him at Larissa, which last is singular enough, as he
recommended a different route to Lord Sligo, who asked leave to accompany him
to the Danube. I asked no such thing, but on his enquiry where I meant to go,
and receiving for answer that I was about to return to Albania, for the purpose
of penetrating higher up the country he replied: “No, you must not take that
route, but go round by Larissa, where I shall remain some time, on my way. I
will send to Athens, and you shall join me; we will eat and drink and go a
hunting..” He said he wished all the old men (specifying under that
epithet North, Forresti, and Strané) to
go to his father, but the young ones to come to him, to use his own expression,
“Vecchio con Vecchio, Giovane con Giovane”. He honoured me with the
appellations of his friend and brother, and hoped that we should
be on good terms, not for a few days but for life. All this is very well, but
he has an awkward manner of throwing his arm round one’s waist, and squeezing one’s hand in public
which is a high compliment, but very much embarrasses “ingenuous youth”.
The first time I saw him he received me standing,
accompanied me at my departure to the door of the audience chamber, and told me
I was a παλικαρι and an
εύμορφω παίδι. He
asked if I did not think it very proper that as young men (he has a beard
down to his middle) we should live together, with a variety of other
sayings which made Strané stare, and puzzled me in my replies. He was very facetious
with Andreas and Viscille, and recommended that my Albanians’ heads should be
cut off if they behaved ill. I shall write to you from Larissa, and inform you
of our proceedings in that city. In the meantime I sojourn at Athens. I have
sent Eustathius back to his home; he plagued my soul out with his whims, and is
besides subject to epileptic fits (tell M. this) which made him a
perplexing companion; in other
matters he was very tolerable, I mean as to his learning, being well versed in
the Ellenics. You remember Nicolo at Athens, Lusieri’s wife’s brother. Give my
compliments to Matthews, from whom I expect a congratulatory letter. I have a
thousand anecdotes for him and you, but at present, τί να
κάμω? I have neither time nor space, but in the words of
Dawes, “I have things in store”. I have scribbled thus much. Where shall I send
it? Why, to Malta or Paternoster Row. Hobby, you wretch, how is the Miscellany?
that damned and damnable work. What has the learned world said to your
Paradoxes? I hope you did not forget the importance of Monogamy. Strané has jus arrived with bags of piastres, so
that I must conclude by the usual
phrase of
Yours, etc. etc., Byron
P.
S . – You knew young Bossari at Yanina; he is a piece of Ali Pacha’s!!
Well did Horace write “Nil Admirari”